Brass-Bottle 


S  1  fr-^V 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT 


From  the  Library  of 

Henry  Goldman,   Ph.D. 

1886-1972 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/brassbottleOOanstiala 


%*.*,,!**$, 


THE    BRASS    BOTTLE 


By  F.  ANSTEY. 

The  Brass  Bottle.     Illustrated.     121110. 

Cloth,  $1.50. 
Love  among  the  Lions.     Illustrated. 

xsmo.    Cloth,  $1.00. 
Vice  Versa;  or,  A  Lesson  to  Fathers. 

i2mo.    Cloth,  $1.35;   paper,  50  cents. 
Baboo  Hurry  Bungsho  Jabberjee,  B.  A. 

121110.      Illustrated.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  Statement  of  Stella  Maberly. 

i6mo.     Cloth,  $1.35. 

The  Giant's  Robe.     Illustrated,    ismo. 

Cloth,  $1.35;   paper,  50  cents. 
The  Black  Poodle,  and  Other  Stories. 

i2mo.    Illustrated.    Paper,  50  cents. 
Tourmalin's  Time  Cheques. 

Boards,  50  cents. 
The  Tinted  Venus,    ismo. 

Paper,  50  cents. 

Paleface  and  Redskin,  and  Other  Sto- 
ries for  Boys  and  Girls,    ismo. 
Illustrated.     Cloth,  $1.50. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  New  York. 


Gazing  in  undisguised  astonishment. 

(See  paKe  130.) 


The  BRASS 
BOTTLE 

By 

F  .    A  N  S  T  E  Y 

Author  of  Vice  Versa,  The  Tinted 
Venus,  Love  Among  the  Lions,  etc. 


New  To  rk 

D.  APPLETON  tf  COMPANY 

I  9o  I 


Copyright,  1899,  1900, 
By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


Annex 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — Horace  Ventimore  receives  a  commission  1 

II. — A    CHEAP  LOT 17 

III. — AN   UNEXPECTED   OPENING           ....  26 

IV. — At  large 48 

V. — Carte  blanche 54 

VI. — Embarras  de  richesses        ....  77 
VII. — "Gratitude — a  lively  sense  of  favours 

to  come" 95 

VIII. — Bachelor's  quarters 116 

IX. — "Persicos  odi,  puer,  apparatus"       .        .  131 

X. — No  place  like  home 166 

XI. — A  fool's  paradise 178 

XII. — The  messenger  of  hope        ....  204 

XIII. — A  choice  of  evils 222 

XIV. — "Since  there's  no  help,  come,  let  us  kiss 

AND  PART  " 245 

XV. — Blushing  honours 270 

XVI. — A  killing  frost 283 

XVII.— High  words 300 

XVHL— Letting  him  go 318 

The  Epilogue 346 

v 


THE  BEASS  BOTTLE 


CHAPTEK  I 

HORACE  VENTIMORE  RECEIVES  A  COMMISSION 

"  This  day  six  weeks — just  six  weeks  ago !  " 
Horace  Ventimore  said,  half  aloud,  to  himself, 
and  pulled  out  his  watch.  "  Half  past  twelve — 
what  was  I  doing  at  half  past  twelve  ?  " 

As  he  sat  at  the  window  of  his  office  in 
Great  Cloister  Street,  Westminster,  he  made  his 
thoughts  travel  back  to  a  certain  glorious  morn- 
ing in  August  which  now  seemed  so  remote  and 
irrecoverable.  At  this  precise  time  he  was  wait- 
ing on  the  balcony  of  the  Hotel  de  la  Plage — 
the  sole  hostelry  of  St.  Luc-en-Port,  the  tiny 
Normandy  watering-place  upon  which,  by  some 
happy  inspiration,  he  had  lighted  during  a  soli- 
tary cycling  tour- — waiting  until  She  should 
appear. 

He  could  see  the  whole  scene :  the  tiny  cove, 
with  the  violet  shadow  of  the  cliff  sleeping  on 
the  green  water;  the  swill  of  the  waves  lazily 


2  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

lapping  against  the  diving-board  from  which  he 
had  plunged  half  an  hour  before;  he  remem- 
bered the  long  swim  out  to  the  buoy;  the  ex- 
hilarated anticipation  with  which  he  had  dressed 
and  climbed  the  steep  path  to  the  hotel  terrace. 

For  was  he  not  to  pass  the  whole  remainder 
of  that  blissful  day  in  Sylvia  Futvoye's  society? 
Were  they  not  to  cycle  together  (there  were, 
of  course,  others  of  the  party — but  they  did  not 
count),  to  cycle  over  to  Veulettes,  to  picnic  there 
under  the  cliff,  and  ride  back — always  together 
— in  the  sweet-scented  dusk,  over  the  slopes, 
between  the  poplars  or  the  cornfields  glowing 
golden  against  a  sky  of  warm  purple? 

ISTow  he  saw  himself  going  round  to  the  grav- 
elled courtyard  in  front  of  the  hotel  with  a  sud- 
den dread  of  missing  her.  There  was  nothing 
there  but  the  little  low  cart,  with  its  canvas  tilt, 
which  was  to  convey  Professor  Futvoye  and  his 
wife  to  the  place  of  rendezvous. 

There  was  Sylvia  at  last,  distractingly  fair 
and  fresh  in  her  cool,  pink  blouse  and  cream- 
coloured  skirt;  how  gracious  and  friendly  and 
generally  delightful  she  had  been  throughout 
that  unforgetable  day,  which  was  supreme 
among  others  only  a  little  less  perfect,  and  all 
now  fled  forever! 

They  had  had  drawbacks,  it  was  true.    Old 


HORACE  VENTIMORE'S  COMMISSION  3 

Futvoye  was  perhaps  the  least  bit  of  a  bore 
at  times,  with  his  interminable  disquisitions  on 
Egyptian  art  and  ancient  Oriental  character 
writing,  in  which  he  seemed  convinced  that  Hor- 
ace must  feel  a  perfervid  interest,  as,  indeed, 
he  thought  it  politic  to  affect.  The  professor 
was  a  most  learned  archaeologist,  and  positively 
bulged  with  information  on  his  favourite  sub- 
jects; but  it  is  just  possible  that  Horace  might 
have  been  less  curious  concerning  the  distinction 
between  Cuneiform  and  Aramaean  or  Kufic  and 
Arabic  inscriptions  if  his  informant  had  hap- 
pened to  be  the  father  of  anybody  else.  How- 
ever, such  insincerities  as  these  are  but  so  many 
evidences  of  sincerity. 

So  with  self-tormenting  ingenuity  Horace 
conjured  up  various  pictures  from  that  Norman 
holiday  of  his. 

And  now?  .  .  .  He  looked  up  from  the 
papers  and  tracing  cloth  on  his  desk,  and  round 
the  small  panelled  room  which  served  him  as 
an  office,  at  the  framed  plans  and  photographs, 
the  set  squares  and  T  squares  on  the  walls,  and 
felt  a  dull  resentment  against  his  surroundings. 
From  his  window  he  commanded  a  cheerful  view 
of  a  tall,  mouldering  wall,  once  part  of  the 
Abbey  boundaries,  surmounted  by  chevaux-de- 
frise,  above  whose  rust-attenuated  spikes  some 


4  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

plane  trees  stretched  their  yellowing  branches. 
Every  now  and  then  a  leaf  would  abandon  its 
struggle  for  life  in  despair,  let  go  its  twig,  and 
gyrate  slowly  down  to  join  its  russet  brethren 
on  the  cobblestones. 

"  She  would  have  come  to  care  for  me," 
Horace's  thoughts  ran  on,  disjointedly.  "  I 
could  have  sworn  that  that  last  day  of  all — and 
her  people  didn't  seem  to  object  to  me.  Her 
mother  asked  me  cordially  enough  to  call  on 
them  when  they  were  back  in  town.  When 
I  did " 

When  he  had  called  there  had  been  a  dif- 
ference— not  an  unusual  sequel  to  an  acquaint- 
anceship begun  in  a  Continental  watering-place. 
It  was  difficult  to  define,  but  unmistakable — a 
certain  formality  and  constraint  on  Mrs.  Fut- 
voye's  part,  and  even  on  Sylvia's,  which  seemed 
intended  to  warn  him  that  it  is  not  every  friend- 
ship that  survives  the  Channel  passage.  So  he 
had  gone  away  sore  at  heart,  but  fully  recog- 
nising that  any  advances  in  future  must  come 
from  their  side.  They  might  ask  him  to  din- 
ner, or  at  least  to  call  again;  but,  more  than 
a  month  had  passed,  and  they  had  made  no  sign. 
No,  it  was  all  over;  he  must  consider  himself 
dropped. 

"  After  all,"  he  told  himself,  with  a  short 


HORACE  VENTIMORE'S  COMMISSION  5 

and  anything  but  mirthful  laugh,  "  it's  natural 
enough.  Mrs.  Futvoye  has  probably  been  mak- 
ing inquiries  about  my  professional  prospects. 
It's  better  as  it  is.  What  earthly  chance  have  I 
got  of  marrying  unless  I  can  get  work  of  my 
own?  It's  all  I  can  do  to  keep  myself  decently. 
I've  no  right  to  dream  of  asking  any  one — to 
say  nothing  of  Sylvia — to  marry  me.  I  should 
only  be  rushing  into  temptation  if  I  saw  any 
more  of  her.  She's  not  for  a  poor  beggar  like 
me,  who  was  born  unlucky.  Well,  whining 
won't  do  any  good — let's  have  a  look  at  Beevor's 
latest  performance." 

He  spread  out  a  large  coloured  plan,  in  a 
corner  of  which  appeared  the  name  of  "  William 
Beevor,  Architect,"  and  began  to  study  it  in  a 
spirit  of  anything  but  appreciation. 

"  Beevor  gets  on,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  Heaven  knows  I  don't  grudge  him  his  success. 
He's  a  good  fellow — though  he  does  build  archi- 
tectural atrocities,  and  seems  to  like  'em.  Who 
am  I  to  give  myself  airs?  He's  successful — I'm 
not.  Yet  if  I  only  had  his  opportunities,  what 
wouldn't  I  make  of  them!  " 

Let  it  be  said  here  that  this  was  not  the  ordi- 
nary self-delusion  of  an  incompetent.  Venti- 
more  really  had  talent  above  the  average,  with 
ideals  and  ambitions  which  might  under  better 


6  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

conditions  have  attained  recognition  and  fulfil- 
ment before  this. 

But  he  was  not  quite  energetic  enough,  be- 
sides being  too  proud,  to  push  himself  into  no- 
tice, and  hitherto  he  had  met  with  persistent 
ill-luck. 

So  Horace  had  no  other  occupation  now 
but  to  give  Beevor,  whose  offices  and  clerk  he 
shared,  such  slight  assistance  as  he  might  re- 
quire, and  it  was  by  no  means  cheering  to  feel 
that  every  year  of  this  enforced  semi-idleness 
left  him  further  handicapped  in  the  race  for 
wealth  and  fame,  for  he  had  already  passed  his 
twenty-eighth  birthday. 

If  Miss  Sylvia  Futvoye  had  indeed  felt  at- 
tracted toward  him  at  one  time  it  was  not  alto- 
gether incomprehensible.  Horace  Ventimore 
was  not  a  model  of  manly  beauty — models  of 
manly  beauty  are  rare  out  of  novels,  and  seldom 
interesting  in  them;  but  his  clear-cut,  clean- 
shaven face  had  a  certain  distinction,  and  if  there 
were  faint  satirical  lines  about  the  mouth,  they 
were  redeemed  by  the  expression  of  the  gray- 
blue  eyes,  which  were  remarkably  frank  and 
pleasant.  He  was  well  made,  and  tall  enough 
to  escape  all  danger  of  being  described  as  short; 
light-haired  and  fair,  or  rather  colourless,  of 
complexion,  and  he  gave  the  impression  of  being 


HORACE  VENTIMORE'S  COMMISSION  7 

a  man  who  took  life  as  it  came,  and  whose  sense 
of  humour  would  serve  as  a  lining  for  most 
clouds  that  might  darken  his  horizon. 

There  was  a  rap  at  the  door  which  com- 
municated with  Beevor's  office,  and  Beevor  him- 
self, a  florid,  thick-set  man,  with  small  side- 
whiskers,  burst  in. 

"  I  say,  Ventimore,  you  didn't  run  off  with 
the  plans  for  that  house  I'm  building  at  Larch- 
mere,  did  you?  Because — ah,  I  see  you're  look- 
ing over  them.    Sorry  to  deprive  you,  but " 

"  Thanks,  old  fellow,  take  them,  by  all 
means.    I've  seen  all  I  wanted  to  see." 

"  Well,  I'm  just  off  to  Larchmere  now. 
Want  to  be  there  to  look  after  things,  and 
there's  my  other  house  at  Fittlesdon.  I  must 
go  on  afterward  and  set  it  out,  so  I  shall  prob- 
ably be  away  some  days.  I'm  taking  Harrison 
down,  too.    You  won't  be  wanting  him,  eh  ? " 

Yentimore  laughed.  "  I  can  manage  to  do 
nothing  without  a  clerk  to  help  me.  Your  ne- 
cessity is  greater  than  mine.  Here  are  the 
plans." 

"  I'm  rather  pleased  with  'em  myself,  you 
know,"  said  Beevor ;  "  that  roof  ought  to  look 
well,  eh  ?  Good  idea  of  mine  lightening  the  slate 
with  that  ornamental  tile-work  along  the  top. 
You  saw  I  put  in  one  of  your  windows  with  just 


8  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

a  trifling  addition.  I  was  almost  inclined  to  keep 
both  gables  alike,  as  you  suggested,  but  it  struck 
me  a  little  variety — one  red  brick  and  the  other 
'  parged ' — would  be  more  out  of  the  way." 

■  "  Oh,  much,"  agreed  Yentimore,  knowing 
that  to  disagree  was  useless. 

"  Not,  mind  you,"  continued  Beevor,  "  that 
I  believe  in  going  in  for  too  much  originality 
in  domestic  architecture.  The  average  client 
no  more  wants  an  original  house  than  he  wants 
an  original  hat;  he  wants  something  he  won't 
feel  a  fool  in.  I've  often  thought,  old  man,  that 
perhaps  the  reason  why  you  haven't  got  on — 
you  don't  mind  my  speaking  candidly,  do  you?  " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Yentimore  cheerfully. 
"  Candour's  the  cement  of  friendship.  Stick 
it  on." 

"  Well,  I  was  only  going  to  say  that  you  do 
yourself  no  good  by  all  those  confoundedly  un- 
conventional ideas  of  yours.  If  you  had  your 
chance  to-morrow,  it's  my  belief  you'd  throw  it 
away  by  insisting  on  some  fantastic  fad  or 
other." 

"  These  speculations  are  a  trifle  premature, 
considering  that  there  doesn't  seem  the  remotest 
prospect  of  my  ever  getting  a  chance  at  all." 

"  I  got  mine  before  I'd  set  up  six  months," 
said  Beevor.    "  The  great  thing,  however,"  he 


HORACE  VENTIMORE'S  COMMISSION  9 

went  on,  with  a  flavour  of  personal  application, 
"  is  to  know  how  to  use  it  when  it  does  come. 
Well,  I  must  be  off  if  I  mean  to  catch  that  one 
o'clock  from  Waterloo.  You'll  see  to  anything 
that  may  come  in  for  me  while  I'm  away,  won't 
you,  and  let  me.  know?  And  there's  the  speci- 
fication for  the  new  wing  at  Tusculum  Lodge — 
you  might  draft  that  some  time  when  you've 
nothing  else  to  do.  You'll  find  all  the  papers 
on  my  desk.     Thanks  awfully,  old  chap." 

And  Beevor  hurried  back  to  his  own  room, 
where  for  the  next  few  minutes  he  could  be 
heard  bustling  Harrison,  the  clerk,  to  make 
haste;  then  a  hansom  was  whistled  for,  there 
were  footsteps  down  the  old  stairs,  the  sounds 
of  a  departing  vehicle  on  the  uneven  stones, 
and  after  that  silence  and  solitude. 

It  was  not  in  Nature  to  avoid  feeling  a  little 
envious.  Beevor  had  work  to  do  in  the  world; 
even  if  it  chiefly  consisted  in  providing  sylvan 
retreats  with  smug  or  pretentious  villas,  it  was 
still  work  which  entitled  him  to  consideration 
and  respect  in  the  eyes  of  all  right-minded 
persons. 

And  nobody  believed  in  Horace;  as  yet  he 
had  never  known  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the 
work  of  his  brain  realized  in  stone  and  brick  and 
mortar;  no  building  stood  anywhere  to  bear  tes- 


10  THE  BRASS   BOTTLE 

timony  to  his  existence  and  capability  long  after 
lie  himself  should  have  passed  away. 

It  was  not  a  profitable  train  of  thought,  and, 
to  escape  from  it,  he  went  into  Beevor's  room 
and  fetched  the  documents  he  had  mentioned — 
at  least  they  would  keep  him  occupied  until  it 
was  time  to  go  to  his  club  and  lunch.  He  had 
no  sooner  settled  down  to  his  calculations,  how- 
ever, when  he  heard  a  shuffling  step  on  the  land- 
ing, followed  by  a  knock  at  Beevor's  office  door. 
"  More  work  for  Beevor,"  he  thought;  "  what 
luck  the  fellow  has!  I'd  better  go  in  and  ex- 
plain that  he's  just  left  town  on  business." 

But  on  entering  the  adjoining  room  he  heard 
the  knocking  repeated — this  time  at  his  own 
door;  and  hastening  back  to  put  an  end  to  this 
somewhat  undignified  form  of  hide-and-seek,  he 
discovered  that  this  visitor  at  least  was  legiti- 
mately his,  and  was,  in  fact,  no  other  than  Pro- 
fessor Anthony  Futvoye  himself. 

The  professor  was  standing  in  the  door: 
way  peering  short-sightedly  through  his  convex 
glasses,  his  head  protruded  from  his  loosely  fit- 
ting great  coat  with  an  irresistible  suggestion  of 
an  inquiring  tortoise.  To  Horace  his  appear- 
ance was  more  welcome  than  that  of  the  wealthi- 
est client — for  why  should  Sylvia's  father  take 
the  trouble  to  pay  him  this  visit  unless  he  still 


HORACE  VEXTIMORE'S  COMMISSION        H 

wished  to  continue  the  acquaintanceship?  It 
might  even  be  that  he  was  the  bearer  of  some 
message  or  invitation. 

So,  although  to  an  impartial  eye  the  pro- 
fessor might  not  seem  the  kind  of  elderly  gen- 
tleman whose  society  would  produce  any  wild 
degree  of  exhilaration,  Horace  was  unfeignedly 
delighted  to  see  him. 

"  Extremely  kind  of  you  to  come  and  see 
me  like  this,  sir,"  he  said  warmly,  after  estab- 
lishing him  in  the  solitary  arm-chair,  reserved 
for  hypothetical  clients. 

"  Not  at  all.  I'm  afraid  your  visit  to  Cottes- 
more Gardens  some  time  ago  was  somewhat  of 
a  disappointment." 

"A  disappointment?"  echoed  Horace,  at 
a  loss  to  know  what  was  coming  next. 

"  I  refer  to  the  fact — which  possibly,  how- 
ever, escaped  your  notice  " — explained  the  pro- 
fessor, scratching  his  scanty  patch  of  grizzled 
whisker  with  a  touch  of  irascibility,  "  that  I  my- 
self was  not  at  home  on  that  occasion." 

"  Indeed,  I  was  greatly  disappointed,"  said 
Horace,  "  though  of  course  I  know  how  much 
you  are  engaged.  It's  all  the  more  good  of  you 
to  spare  time  to  drop  in  for  a  chat  just  now." 

"  I've  not  come  to  chat,  Mr.  Ventimore.  I 
never  chat.    I  wanted  to  see  you  about  a  mat- 


12  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

ter  which  I  thought  you  might  be  so  obliging 
as  to —  But  I  observe  you  are  busy — probably 
too  busy  to  attend  to  such  a  small  affair." 

It  was  clear  enough  now;  the  professor  was 
going  to  build,  and  had  decided — could  it  be 
at  Sylvia's  suggestion? — to  intrust  the  work  to 
him! 

But  he  contrived  to  subdue  any  self-betray- 
ing eagerness,  and  reply  (as  he  could  with  per- 
fect truth)  that  he  had  nothing  on  hand  just 
then  which  he  could  not  lay  aside,  and  that  if 
the  professor  would  let  him  know  what  he  re- 
quired, he  could  take  it  up  at  once. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  the  professor; 
"  so  much  the  better.  Both  my  wife  and  daugh- 
ter declared  that  it  was  making  far  too  great  a 
demand  upon  your  good  nature;  but,  as  I  told 
them,  '  I  am  much  mistaken/  I  said,  '  if  Mr. 
Ventimore's  practice  is  so  extensive  that  he  can 
not  leave  it  for  one  afternoon ' ,: 

Evidently  it  was  not  a  house.  Could  he 
be  needed  to  escort  them  somewhere  that  after- 
noon? Even  that  was  more  than  he  had  hoped 
for  a  few  minutes  since.  He  hastened  to  repeat 
that  he  was  perfectly  free  that  afternoon. 

"  In  that  case,"  said  the  professor,  begin- 
ning to  fumble  in  all  his  pockets — was  he  search- 
ing for  a  note  in  Sylvia's  hand? — "  in  that  case, 


HORACE  VENTIMORE'S  COMMISSION        13 

you  will  be  conferring  a  real  favour  on  me  if 
you  can  make  it  convenient  to  attend  a  sale  at 
Hammond's  Auction  Rooms  in  Covent  Garden, 
and  just  bid  for  one  or  two  articles  on  my  be- 
half." 

Whatever  disappointment  Ventimore  felt,  it 
may  be  said  to  his  credit  that  he  allowed  no  sign 
of  it  to  appear.  "  Of  course  I'll  go,  with  pleas- 
ure," he  said,  "  if  I  can  be  of  any  use." 

"  I  knew  I  shouldn't  come  to  you  in  vain," 
said  the  professor.  "  I  remembered  your  won- 
derful good  nature,  sir,  in  accompanying  my 
wife  and  daughter  on  all  sorts  of  expeditions  in 
the  blazing  hot  weather  we  had  at  St.  Luc — 
when  you  might  have  remained  quietly  at  the 
hotel  with  me.  Xot  that  I  should  trouble  you 
now,  only  I  have  to  lunch  at  the  Oriental  Club, 
and  I've  an  appointment  afterward  to  examine 
and  report  on  a  recently  discussed  inscribed  cyl- 
inder for  the  Museum,  which  will  fully  occupy 
the  rest  of  the  afternoon,  so  that  it's  physically 
impossible  for  me  to  go  to  Hammond's  myself, 
and  I  strongly  object  to  employing  a  broker 
when  I  can  avoid  it.  Where  did  I  put  that  cata- 
logue? .  .  .  Ah,  here  it  is.  This  was  sent  to 
me  by  the  executors  of  my  old  friend,  General 
Collingham,  who  died  the  other  day.  I  met 
him  at  !N"akada  when  I  was  out  excavating  some 


14  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

years  ago.  He  had  some  official  post  or  other 
at  Cairo,  and  was  something  of  a  collector  in  his 
way,  though  he  knew  very  little  about  it,  and, 
of  course,  was  taken  in  right  and  left.  Most  of 
his  things  are  downright  rubbish,  but  there  are 
just  a  few  lots  that  are  worth  securing,  at  a  rea- 
sonable figure,  by  some  one  who  knew  what  he 
was  about." 

"  But,  my  dear  professor,"  remonstrated 
Horace,  not  relishing  this  responsibility,  "  I'm 
afraid  I'm  as  likely  as  not  to  pick  up  some  of 
the  rubbish.  I've  no  special  knowledge  of  Ori- 
ental curios." 

"  At  St.  Luc,"  said  the  professor,  "  you  im- 
pressed me  as  having,  for  an  amateur,  an 
exceptionally  accurate  and  comprehensive  ac- 
quaintance with  Egyptian  and  Arabian  art  from 
the  earliest  period."  (If  this  were  so,  Horace 
could  only  feel  with  shame  what  a  fearful  hum- 
bug he  must  have  been.)  "  However,  I've  no 
wish  to  lay  too  heavy  a  burden  on  you,  and,  as 
you  will  see  from  this  catalogue,  I  have  ticked 
off  the  lots  in  which  I  am  chiefly  interested,  and 
made  a  note  of  the  limit  to  which  I  am  prepared 
to  bid,  so  you'll  have  no  difficulty." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Horace,  "  I'll  go  straight 
to  Covent  Garden,  and  slip  out  and  get  some 
lunch  later  on." 


HORACE  VENTIMORE'S  COMMISSION        15 

"  "Well,  perhaps,  if  you  don't  mind.  The 
lots  I  have  marked  seem  to  come  on  at  rather 
frequent  intervals,  but  don't  let  that  considera- 
tion deter  you  from  getting  your  lunch,  and  if 
you  should  miss  anything  by  not  being  on  the 
spot,  why,  it's  of  no  consequence,  though  I  don't 
say  it  mightn't  be  a  pity.  In  any  case,  you  won't 
forget  to  mark  what  each  lot  fetches,  and  per- 
haps you  wouldn't  mind  dropping  me  a  line 
when  you  return  the  catalogue — or  stay,  could 
you  look  in  some  time  after  dinner  this  evening, 
and  let  me  know  how  you  got  on? — that  would 
be  better." 

Horace  thought  it  would  be  decidedly  bet- 
ter, and  undertook  to  call  and  render  an  account 
of  his  stewardship  that  evening.  There  re- 
mained the  question  of  a  deposit,  should  one 
or  more  of  the  lots  be  knocked  down  to  him; 
and,  as  he  was  obliged  to  own  that  he  had  not 
so  much  as  ten  pounds  about  him  at  that  par- 
ticular moment,  the  professor  extracted  a  note 
for  that  amount  from  his  case  and  handed  it  to 
him  with  the  air  of  a  benevolent  person  reliev- 
ing a  deserving  object.  "  Don't  exceed  my  lim- 
its," he  said,  "  for  I  can't  afford  more  just  now; 
and  mind  you  give  Hammond  your  own  name, 
not  mine.  If  the  dealers  get  to  know  I'm  after 
the  things,  they'll  run  you  up.     And  now,  I 


16  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

don't  think  I  need  detain  you  any  longer,  espe- 
cially as  time  is  running  on.  I'm  sure  I  can 
trust  you  to  do  the  best  you  can  for  me.  Till 
this  evening,  then." 

A  few  minutes  later  Horace  was  driving  up 
to  Covent  Garden  behind  the  best-looking  horse 
he  could  pick  out. 

The  professor  might  have  required  from  him 
rather  more  than  was  strictly  justified  by  their 
acquaintanceship,  and  taken  his  acquiescence  too 
much  as  a  matter  of  course — but  what  of  that? 
After  all,  he  was  Sylvia's  parent. 

"  Even  with  my  luck,"  he  was  thinking,  "  I 
ought  to  succeed  in  getting  at  least  one  or  two 
of  the  lots  he's  marked ;  and  if  I  can  only  please 
him,  something  may  come  of  it." 

And  in  this  sanguine  mood  Horace  entered 
Messrs.  Hammond's  well-known  auction  rooms. 


CHAPTEK  H 

A    CHEAP    LOT 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  was  the  luncheon 
hour  when  Ventimore  reached  Hammond's  Auc- 
tion Rooms,  he  found  the  big,  skylighted  gallery 
where  the  sale  of  the  furniture  and  effects  of  the 
late  General  Collingham  was  proceeding  crowd- 
ed to  a  degree  which  showed  that  the  deceased 
officer  had  some  reputation  as  a  connoisseur. 

The  narrow  green  baize  tables  below  the 
auctioneer's  rostrum  were  occupied  by  profes- 
sional dealers,  one  or  two  of  them  women,  who 
sat,  paper  and  pencil  in  hand,  with  much  the 
same  air  of  outward  apathy  and  inward  concen- 
tration that  may  be  noticed  in  the  Casino  at 
Monte  Carlo.  Around  them  stood  a  decorous 
and  businesslike  crowd,  mostly  dealers,  also  of 
various  types.  On  a  magisterial-looking  bench 
sat  the  auctioneer,  conducting  the  sale  with  a 
judicial  impartiality  and  dignity  which  forbade 
him,  even  in  his  most  laudatory  comments,  the 
faintest  accent  of  enthusiasm. 

17 


18  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

The  October  sunshine,  striking  through  the 
glazed  roof,  regilded  the  tarnished  gas-stars,  and 
suffused  the  dusty  atmosphere  with  palest  gold. 
But  somehow  the  utter  absence  of  excitement 
in  the  crowd,  the  calm,  methodical  tone  of  the 
auctioneer,  and  the  occasional  mournful  cry  of 
"  Lot  here,  gentlemen !  "  from  the  porter  when 
any  article  was  too  large  to  move,  all  served  to 
depress  Ventimore's  usually  mercurial  spirits. 

For  all  Horace  knew,  the  collection  as  a 
whole  might  be  of  little  value,  but  it  very  soon 
became  clear  that  others  besides  Professor 
Futvoye  had  singled  out  such  gems  as  there 
were,  also  that  the  professor  had  considerably 
underrated  the  prices  they  were  likely  to 
fetch. 

Yentimore  made  his  bids  with  all  possible 
discretion,  but  time  after  time  he  found  the 
competition  for  some  perforated  mosque  lantern, 
engraved  ewer,  or  ancient  porcelain  tile  so  great 
that  his  limit  was  soon  reached,  and  his  sole  con- 
solation was  that  the  article  eventually  changed 
hands  for  sums  which  were  very  nearly  double 
the  professor's  estimate. 

Several  dealers  and  brokers,  despairing  of 
a  bargain  that  day,  left,  murmuring  profanities ; 
most  of  those  who  remained  ceased  to  take  a 
serious  interest  in  the  proceedings,  and  consoled 


A  CHEAP  LOT  19 

themselves  with  cheap  witticisms  at  every  fa- 
vourable occasion. 

The  sale  dragged  slowly  on,  and,  what  with 
continual  disappointment  and  want  of  food, 
Horace  began  to  feel  so  weary  that  he  was  glad, 
as  the  crowd  thinned,  to  get  a  seat  at  one  of 
the  green  baize  tables,  by  which  time  the  sky- 
lights had  already  changed  from  livid  gray  to 
slate  colour  in  the  deepening  dusk. 

A  couple  of  meek  Burmese  Buddhas  had 
just  been  put  up,  and  bore  the  indignity  of  being 
knocked  down  for  nine-and-sixpence  the  pair 
with  a  dreamy,  inscrutable  simper;  Horace  only 
waited  for  the  final  lot  marked  by  the  professor 
— an  old  Persian  copper  bowl,  inlaid  with  silver 
and  engraved  round  the  rim  with  an  inscription 
from  Hafiz. 

The  limit  to  which  he  was  authorized  to 
go  was  two  pounds  ten;  but,  so  desperately 
anxious  was  Yentimore  not  to  return  empty- 
handed  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  bid 
an  extra  sovereign  if  necessary,  and  say  noth- 
ing about  it. 

However,  the  bowl  was  put  up,  and  the  bid- 
ding soon  rose  to  three  pounds  ten,  four  pounds, 
four  pounds  ten,  five  pounds,  five  guineas,  for 
which  last  sum  it  was  acquired  by  a  bearded 
man  on  Horace's  right,  who  immediately  began 


20  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

to  regard  his  purchase  with  a  more  indulgent 
eye. 

Ventimore  had  done  his  best,  and  failed; 
there  was  no  reason  now  why  he  should  stay 
a  moment  longer — and  yet  he  sat  on,  from  sheer 
fatigue  and  disinclination  to  move. 

"  Now  we  come  to  Lot  254,  gentlemen,"  he 
heard  the  auctioneer  saying  mechanically:  "  a 
capital  Egyptian  mummy  case  in  fine  con —  No, 
I  beg  pardon,  I'm  wrong.  This  is  an  article 
which  by  some  mistake  has  been  omitted  from 
the  catalogue,  though  it  ought  to  have  been  in 
it.  Everything  on  sale  to-day,  gentlemen,  be- 
longed to  the  late  General  Collingham.  We'll 
call  this  No.  253a.  Antique  brass  bottle.  Very 
curious." 

One  of  the  porters  carried  the  bottle  in  be- 
tween the  tables,  and  set  it  down  before  the 
dealers  at  the  farther  end  with  a  tired  non- 
chalance. 

It  was  an  old,  squat,  pot-bellied  vessel  about 
two  feet  high,  with  a  long,  thick  neck,  the  mouth 
of  which  was  closed  by  a  sort  of  metal  stopper 
or  cap;  there  was  no  visible  decoration  on  its 
sides,  which  were  rough  and  pitted  by  some  in- 
crustation that  had  formed  on  them,  and  been 
partially  scraped  off.  As  a  piece  of  bric-a-brac 
it  certainly  possessed  few  attractions,  and  there 


A  CHEAP  LOT  21 

was  a  marked  tendency  to  "  guy  "  it  among  the 
more  frivolous  brethren. 

What  do  you  call  this,  sir? "  inquired  one 
of  the  auctioneer,  with  the  manner  of  a  cheeky 
boy  trying  to  get  a  rise  out  of  his  form-master. 
"  Is  it  as  '  unique  '  as  the  others?  " 

"  You're  as  well  able  to  judge  as  I  am,"  was 
the  guarded  reply.  "  Any  one  can  see  for  him- 
self it's  not  modern  rubbish." 

"  Make  a  pretty  little  ornament  for  the  man- 
telpiece !  "  remarked  a  wag. 

"  Is  the  top  made  to  unscrew,  or  what, 
sir?"  asked  a  third.  "Seems  fixed  on  pretty 
tight." 

"  I  can't  say.  Probably  it  has  not  been  re- 
moved for  some  time." 

"  It's  a  goodish  weight,"  said  the  chief 
humorist,  after  handling  it.  "  What's  inside 
of  it,  sir — sardines?  " 

"  I  don't  represent  it  as  having  anything 
inside  it,"  said  the  auctioneer.  "  If  you  want 
to  know  my  opinion,  I  think  there's  money 
in  it." 

"  Inside  that?    'Ow  much?  " 

"  Don't  misunderstand  me,  gentlemen. 
When  I  say  I  consider  there's  money  in  it,  I'm 
not  alluding  to  its  contents.  I've  no  reason  to 
believe  that  it  contains  anything.     I'm  merely 


22  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

suggesting  the  thing  itself  may  be  worth  more 
than  it  looks." 

"  Ah,  it  might  be  that  without  'urting 
itself!  " 

"  Well,  well,  don't  let  us  waste  time.  Look 
upon  it  as  a  pure  speculation,  and  make  me 
an  offer  for  it,  some  of  you.    Come." 

"  Tuppence-' ap'ny !  "  cried  the  comic  man, 
affecting  to  brace  himself  for  a  great  effort. 

"  Pray  be  serious,  gentlemen.  We  want 
to  get  on,  you  know.  Anything  to  make  a  start. 
Five  shillings?  It's  not  the  value  of  the  metal, 
but  I'll  take  the  bid.  Six.  Look  at  it  well. 
It's  not  an  article  you  come  across  every  day  of 
your  lives." 

The  bottle  was  still  being  passed  round  with 
disrespectful  raps  and  slaps,  and  it  had  now 
come  to  Ventimore's  right-hand  neighbour,  who 
scrutinized  it  carefully,  but  made  no  bid. 

"  That's  all  right,  you  know,"  he  whispered 
in  Horace's  ear.  "  That's  good  stuff,  that  is. 
If  I  was  you,  I'd  'ave  that." 

"  Seven  shillings — eight — nine  bid  for  it 
over  there  in  the  corner,"  said  the  auctioneer. 

"  If  you  think  it's  so  good,  why  don't  you 
have  it  yourself?  "  Horace  asked  his  neighbour. 

"  Me  ?  Oh,  well,  it  ain't  exactly  in  my  line, 
and  getting  this  last  lot  pretty  near  cleaned 


A  CHEAP  LOT  23 

me  out.  I've  done  for  to-day,  I  'ave.  All  the 
same,  it  is  a  curiosity;  dunno  as  I've  seen  a 
brass  vawse  just  that  shape  before,  and  it's  gen- 
uine old,  though  all  these  fellers  are  too  igno- 
rant to  know  the  value  of  it.  So  I  don't  mind 
giving  you  the  tip." 

Horace  rose,  the  better  to  examine  the  top. 
As  far  as  he  could  make  out  in  the  flickering 
light  of  one  of  the  gas-stars,  which  the  auction- 
eer had  just  ordered  to  be  lit,  there  were  half- 
erased  scratches  and  triangular  marks  on  the 
cap  that  might  possibly  be  an  inscription.  If 
so,  might  there  not  be  the  means  here  of  re- 
gaining the  professor's  favour,  which  he  felt 
that,  as  it  was,  he  should  probably  forfeit,  justly 
or  not,  by  his  ill-success? 

He  could  hardly  spend  the  professor's  money 
on  it,  since  it  was  not  in  the  catalogue,  and  he 
had  no  authority  to  bid  for  it,  but  he  had  a  few 
shillings  of  his  own  to  spare.  Why  not  bid  for 
it  on  his  own  account  as  long  as  he  could  afford 
to  do  so?  If  he  was  outbid,  as  usual,  it  would 
not  particularly  matter. 

"  Thirteen  shillings,"  the  auctioneer  was 
saying,  in  his  dispassionate  tones.  Horace 
caught  his  eye,  and  slightly  raised  his  cata- 
logue, while  another  man  nodded  at  the  same 
time.      "  Fourteen    in    two    places."      Horace 


24  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

raised  his  catalogue  again — "  I  won't  go  beyond 
fifteen,"  he  thought. 

"  Fifteen.  It's  against  you,  sir.  Any  ad- 
vance on  fifteen?  Sixteen — this  very  quaint 
old  Oriental  bottle  going  for  only  sixteen 
shillings." 

"  After  all,"  thought  Horace,  "  I  don't  mind 
anything  under  a  pound  for  it."  And  he  bid 
seventeen  shillings.  "  Eighteen,"  cried  his 
rival,  a  short,  cheery,  cherub-faced  little  dealer, 
whose  neighbours  adjured  him  to  "  sit  quiet  like 
a  good  little  boy  and  not  waste  his  pocket- 
money." 

"  Nineteen!  "  said  Horace.  "  Pound!  "  an- 
swered the  cherubic  man. 

"  A  pound  only  bid  for  this  grand  brass  ves- 
sel," said  the  auctioneer  indifferently.  "  All 
done  at  a  pound?  " 

Horace  thought  another  shilling  or  two 
would  not  ruin  him,  and  nodded. 

"  A  guinea.  For  the  last  time.  You'll  lose 
it,  sir,"  said  the  auctioneer  to  the  little  man. 

"  Go  on,  Tommy.  Don't  you  be  beat. 
Spring  another  bob  on  it,  Tommy,"  his  friends 
advised  him  ironically,  but  Tommy  shook  his 
head,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  knows  when 
to  draw  the  line.  "  One  guinea — and  that's  not 
half  its  value!     Gentleman  on  my  left,"  said 


A  CHEAP  LOT  25 

the  auctioneer,  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger — 
and  the  brass  bottle  became  Ventimore's  prop- 
erty. 

He  paid  for  it,  and,  since  he  could  hardly 
walk  home  nursing  a  large  metal  bottle  with- 
out attracting  an  inconvenient  amount  of  at- 
tention, directed  that  it  should  be  sent  to  his 
lodgings  at  Vincent  Square. 

But  when  he  was  out  in  the  fresh  air,  walk- 
ing westward  to  his  club,  he  found  himself  won- 
dering more  and  more  what  could  have  pos- 
sessed him  to  throw  away  a  guinea — when  he 
had  few  enough  for  legitimate  expenses — on  an 
article  of  such  exceedingly  problematical  value. 


chapter  rn 

AN  UNEXPECTED  OPENING 

Ventimore  made  his  way  to  Cottesmore 
Gardens  that  evening  in  a  highly  inconsistent, 
not  to  say  chaotic,  state  of  mind.  The  thought 
that  he  would  presently  see  Sylvia  again  made 
his  blood  course  quicker,  while  he  was  fully  de- 
termined to  say  no  more  to  her  than  civility 
demanded. 

At  one  moment  he  was  blessing  Professor 
Futvoye  for  his  happy  thought  in  making  use 
of  him;  at  another  he  was  bitterly  recognising 
that  it  would  have  been  better  for  his  peace  of 
mind  if  he  had  been  left  alone.  Sylvia  and  her 
mother  had  no  desire  to  see  more  of  him;  if  they 
had,  they  would  have  asked  him  to  come  before 
this.  No  doubt  they  would  tolerate  him  now 
for  the  professor's  sake;  but  who  would  not 
rather  be  ignored  than  tolerated? 

The  more  often  he  saw  Sylvia  the  more 
she  would  make  his  heart  ache  with  vain  long- 
ing— whereas  he  was  getting  almost  reconciled 
26 


AN  UNEXPECTED  OPENING  27 

to  her  indifference ;  he  would  very  soon  be  cured 
if  he  didn't  see  her. 

Why  should  he  see  her?  He  need  not  go 
in  at  all.  He  had  merely  to  leave  the  cata- 
logue with  his  compliments,  and  the  professor 
would  learn  all  he  wanted  to  know. 

On  second  thoughts  he  must  go  in — if  only 
to  return  the  bank-note.  But  he  would  ask  to 
see  the  professor  in  private.  Most  probably  he 
would  not  be  invited  to  join  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ter, but  if  he  were,  he  could  make  some  excuse. 
They  might  think  it  a  little  odd — a  little  dis- 
courteous, perhaps;  but  they  would  be  too  re- 
lieved to  care  much  about  that. 

When  he  got  to  Cottesmore  Gardens,  and 
was  actually  at  the  door  of  the  Futvoyes'  house, 
one  of  the  neatest  and  demurest  in  that  retired 
and  intensely  respectable  thoroughfare,  he 
began  to  feel  a  craven  hope  that  the  professor 
might  be  out,  in  which  case  he  need  only  leave 
the  catalogue  and  write  a  letter  when  he  got 
home,  reporting  his  non-success  at  the  sale,  and 
returning  the  note. 

And,  as  it  happened,  the  professor  was  out, 
and  Horace  was  not  so  glad  as  he  thought  he 
should  be.  The  maid  told  him  that  the  ladies 
were  in  the  drawing-room,  and  seemed  to  take 
it  for  granted  that  he  was  coming  in,  so  he  had 


28  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

himself  announced.  He  would  not  stay  long — 
just  long  enough  to  explain  his  business  there, 
and  make  it  clear  that  he  had  no  wish  to  force 
his  acquaintance  upon  them.  He  found  Mrs. 
Futvoye  in  the  farther  part  of  the  pretty  double 
drawing-room,  writing  letters,  and  Sylvia,  more 
dazzlingly  fair  than  ever  in  some  sort  of  gauzy 
black  frock  with  heliotrope  sash  and  a  bunch 
of  Parma  violets  on  her  breast,  was  comfortably 
established  with  a  book  in  the  front  room,  and 
seemed  surprised,  if  not  resentful,  at  having  to 
disturb  herself. 

"  I  must  apologize,"  he  began,  with  an  in- 
voluntary stiffness,  "  for  calling  at  this  very 
unceremonious  time;  but  the  fact  is,  the  pro- 
fessor  " 

"  I  know  all  about  it,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Fut- 
voye brusquely,  while  her  shrewd,  muddy  gray 
eyes  took  him  in  with  a  cool  stare  that  was 
humorously  observant  without  being  offensive. 
"  "We  heard  how  shamefully  my  husband  abused 
your  good  nature.  Really,  it  was  too  bad  of 
him  to  ask  a  busy  man  like  you  to  put  aside 
his  work  and  go  and  spend  a  whole  day  at  that 
stupid  auction!  " 

"  Oh,  I'd  nothing  particular  to  do.  I  can't 
call  myself  a  busy  man — unfortunately,"  said 
Horace,  with  that  frankness  which  seems  to  con- 


AN  UNEXPECTED  OPENING  29 

ceal  what  other  people  know  perfectly  well  al- 
ready. 

"  Ah,  well,  it's  very  nice  of  you  to  make 
light  of  it — but  he  ought  not  to  have  done  it — 
after  so  short  an  acquaintance,  too.  And  to 
make  it  worse,  he  has  had  to  go  out  unexpect- 
edly this  evening,  but  he'll  be  back  before  very 
long,  if  you  don't  mind  waiting." 

"  There's  really  no  need  to  wait,"  said  Hor- 
ace, "  because  this  catalogue  will  tell  him  every- 
thing, and,  as  the  particular  things  he  wanted 
went  for  much  more  than  he  thought,  I  wasn't 
able  to  get  any  of  them." 

"  I'm  sure  I'm  very  glad  of  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Futvoye,  "  for  his  study  is  crammed  with  odds 
and  ends  as  it  is,  and  I  don't  want  the  whole 
home  to  look  like  a  museum  or  an  antiquity 
shop.  I'd  all  the  trouble  in  the  world  to  per- 
suade him  that  a  great  gaudy  gilded  mummy 
case  was  not  quite  the  thing  for  a  drawing-room. 
But,  please  sit  down,  Mr.  Yentimore." 

"  Thanks,"  stammered  Horace,  "  but — but 
I  mustn't  stay.  If  you  will  tell  the  professor 
how  sorry  I  was  to  miss  him,  and — and  give 
him  back  this  note  which  he  left  with  me  to 
cover  any  deposit,  I — I  won't  interrupt  you  any 
longer." 

He  was,  as  a  rule,  imperturbable  in  most 


30  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

social  emergencies,  but  just  now  he  was  seized 
with  a  wild  desire  to  escape,  which,  to  his  in- 
finite mortification,  made  him  behave  like  a  shy 
schoolboy. 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  Mrs.  Futvoye ;  "I  am 
sure  my  husband  would  be  most  annoyed  if  we 
didn't  keep  you  till  he  came." 

"  I  really  ought  to  go,"  he  declared,  wist- 
fully enough. 

"  We  mustn't  tease  Mr.  Yentimore  to  stay, 
mother,  when  he  so  evidently  wants  to  go,"  said 
Sylvia  cruelly. 

"  Well,  I  won't  detain  you — at  least,  not 
long.  I  wonder  if  you  would  mind  posting  a 
letter  for  me  as  you  pass  the  pillar-box?  I've 
almost  finished  it,  and  it  ought  to  go  to-night, 
and  my  maid  Jessie  has  such  a  bad  cold  I  really 
don't  like  sending  her  out  with  it." 

It  would  have  been  impossible  to  refuse  to 
stay  after  that — even  if  he  had  wished.  It 
would  only  be  for  a  few  minutes.  Sylvia  might 
spare  him  that  much  of  her  time.  He  should 
not  trouble  her  again.  So  Mrs.  Futvoye  went 
back  to  her  bureau,  and  Sylvia  and  he  were 
practically  alone. 

She  had  taken  a  seat  not  far  from  his,  and 
made  a  few  constrained  remarks,  obviously  out 
of  sheer  civility.     He  returned  mechanical  re- 


AN  UNEXPECTED  OPENING  31 

plies,  with  a  dreary  wonder  whether  this  could 
really  be  the  girl  who  had  talked  to  him  with 
such  charming  friendliness  and  confidence  only 
a  few  weeks  ago  in  ^Normandy. 

And  the  worst  of  it  was,  she  was  looking 
more  bewitching  than  ever;  her  slim  arms 
gleaming  through  the  black  lace  of  her  sleeves, 
and  the  gold  threads  in  her  soft  masses  of  chest- 
nut hair  sparkling  in  the  light  of  the  shaded 
lamp  behind  her.  The  slight  contraction  of  her 
eyebrows  and  the  mutinous  downward  curve  of 
her  mouth  seemed  expressive  of  boredom. 

"  What  a  dreadfully  long  time  mamma  is 
over  that  letter !  "  she  said,  at  last.  "  I  think 
I'd  better  go  and  hurry  her  up." 

"  Please  don't — unless  you  are  particularly 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  me." 

"  I  thought  you  seemed  particularly  anxious 
to  escape,"  she  said  coldly.  "  And,  as  a  family, 
we  have  certainly  taken  up  quite  enough  of 
your  time  for  one  day." 

"  That  is  not  the  way  you  used  to  talk  at 
St.  Luc!  "  he  said. 

"  At  St.  Luc?  Perhaps  not.  But  in  Lon- 
don everything  is  so  different,  you  see." 

"  Very  different." 

"  When  one  meets  people  abroad  who — 
who  seem  at  all  inclined  to  be  sociable,"  she 


32  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

continued,  "  one  is  so  apt  to  think  them  pleas- 
anter  than  they  really  are.  Then  one  meets 
them  again,  and — and  wonders  what  one  ever 
saw  to  like  in  them.  And  it's  no  use  pretend- 
ing one  feels  the  same,  because  they  generally 
understand  sooner  or  later.  Don't  you  find 
that? " 

"  I  do  indeed,"  he  said,  wincing,  "  though 
I  don't  know  what  I've  done  to  deserve  that 
you  should  tell  me  so !  " 

"  Oh,  I  was  not  blaming  you.  You  have 
been  most  angelic.  I  can't  think  how  papa 
could  have  expected  you  to  take  all  that  trou- 
ble for  him — still,  you  did,  though  you  must 
have  simply  hated  it." 

"  But,  good  heavens !  don't  you  know  I 
should  be  only  too  delighted  to  be  of  the  least 
service  to  him — or  to  any  of  you? " 

"  You  looked  anything  but  delighted  when 
you  came  in  just  now — you  looked  as  if  your 
one  idea  was  to  get  it  over  as  soon  as  you  could. 
You  know  perfectly  well  you're  longing  now 
for  mother  to  finish  her  letter  and  set  you  free. 
Do  you  really  think  I  can't  see  that? " 

"  If  all  that  is  true,  or  partly  true,"  said 
Horace,  "  can't  you  guess  why?  " 

"  I  guessed  how  it  was  when  you  called  here 
first  that  afternoon.     Mamma  had  asked  you 


AN  UNEXPECTED  OPENING  33 

to,  and  you  thought  you  might  as  well  be  civil; 
perhaps  you  really  did  think  it  would  be  pleas- 
ant to  see  us  again — but  it  wasn't  the  same 
thing.  Oh,  I  saw  it  in  your  face  directly — you 
became  conventional  and  distant  and  horrid, 
and  it  made  me  horrid  too;  and  you  went  away 
determined  that  you  wouldn't  see  any  more  of 
us  than  you  could  help.  That's  why  I  was  so 
furious  when  I  heard  that  papa  had  been  to 
see  you,  and  with  such  an  object." 

All  this  was  so  near  the  truth,  and  yet 
missed  it  with  such  perverse  ingenuity,  that  Hor- 
ace felt  bound  to  put  himself  right. 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  leave  things  as  they 
are,"  he  said,  "  but  I  can't.  It's  no  earthly  use, 
I  know;  but  may  I  tell  you  why  it  really  was 
painful  to  me  to  meet  you  again?  I  thought 
you  were  changed,  that  you  wished  to  forget, 
and  wished  me  to  forget — only  I  can't — that 
we  had  been  friends  for  a  short  time.  And 
though  I  never  blamed  you — it  was  natural 
enough — it  hit  me  pretty  hard — so  hard  that  I 
didn't  feel  anxious  to  repeat  the  experience." 

"Did  it  hit  you  hard?"  said  Sylvia  softly. 
"  Perhaps  I  minded  too,  just  a  very  little.  How- 
ever," she  added,  with  a  sudden  smile,  that 
made  two  enchanting  dimples  in  her  cheeks,  "  it 
only  shows  how  much  more  sensible  it  is  to  have 


34  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

things  out.  Now  perhaps  you  won't  persist  in 
keeping  away  from  us?  " 

"  I  believe,"  said  Horace  gloomily,  still  de- 
termined not  to  let  any  direct  avowal  pass  his 
lips,  "  it  would  be  best  that  I  should  keep  away." 

Her  half-closed  eyes  shone  through  their 
long  lashes;  the  violets  on  her  breast  rose  and 
fell.  "  I  don't  think  I  understand,"  she  said, 
in  a  tone  that  was  both  hurt  and  offended. 

There  is  a  pleasure  in  yielding  to  some 
temptations  that  more  than  compensates  for  the 
pain  of  any  previous  resistance.  Come  what 
might,  he  was  not  going  to  be  misunderstood 
any  longer. 

"  If  I  must  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  I've  fallen 
desperately,  hopelessly,  in  love  with  you.  Now 
you  know  the  reason." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  a  very  good  reason  for 
wanting  to  go  away  and  never  see  me  again. 
Does  it? " 

"  Not  when  I've  no  right  to  speak  to  you 
of  love?" 

"But  you've  done  that!  " 

"I  know,"  he  said  penitently;  "I  couldn't 
help  it.  But  I  never  meant  to.  It  slipped  out. 
I  quite  understand  how  hopeless  it  is." 

"  Of  course,  if  you  are  so  sure  as  all  that, 
you  are  quite  right  not  to  try." 


AN  UNEXPECTED  OPENING  35 

"  Sylvia !  You  can't  mean  that — that  you 
do  care,  after  all?  " 

"  Didn't  you  really  see  ? "  she  said,  with  a 
low,  happy  laugh.  "  How  stupid  of  you !  And 
how  dear !  " 

He  caught  her  hand,  which  she  allowed  to 
rest  contentedly  in  his.  "Oh,  Sylvia!  Then 
you  do — you  do!  But,  my  God,  what  a  selfish 
brute  I  am!  For  we  can't  marry.  It  may  be 
years  before  I  can  ask  you  to  come  to  me.  Your 
father  and  mother  wouldn't  hear  of  your  being 
engaged  to  me." 

"  Need  they  hear  of  it  just  yet,  Horace  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  must.  I  should  feel  a  cur  if  I 
didn't  tell  your  mother,  at  all  events." 

"  Then  you  shan't  feel  a  cur,  for  we'll  go 
and  tell  her  together."  And  Sylvia  rose  and 
went  into  the  farther  room,  and  put  her  arms 
round  her  mother's  neck.  "  Mother,  darling," 
she  said,  in  a  half  whisper,  "  it's  really  all 
your  fault  for  writing  such  very  long  letters, 
but — but — we  don't  exactly  know  how  we 
came  to  do  it — but  Horace  and  I  have  got  en- 
gaged somehow.  You  aren't  very  angry,  are 
you? " 

"  I  think  you're  both  extremely  foolish," 
said  Mrs.  Futvoye,  as  she  extricated  herself 
from  Sylvia's  arms  and  turned  to  face  Horace. 


36  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  From  all  I  hear,  Mr.  Ventimore,  you're  not 
in  a  position  to  marry  at  present." 

"  Unfortunately,  no,"  said  Horace ;  "  I'm 
making  nothing  as  yet.  But  my  chance  must 
come  some  day.  I  don't  ask  you  to  give  me 
Sylvia  till  then." 

"  And  you  know  you  like  Horace,  mother !  " 
pleaded  Sylvia.  "  And  I'm  ready  to  wait  for 
him,  any  time.  Nothing  will  induce  me  to  give 
him  up,  and  I  shall  never,  never  care  for  any- 
body else.  So  you  see  you  may  just  as  well  give 
us  your  consent!  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  been  to  blame,"  said  Mrs. 
Futvoye.  "  I  ought  to  have  foreseen  this  at  St. 
Luc.  Sylvia  is  our  only  child,  Mr.  Ventimore, 
and  I  would  far  rather  see  her  happily  married 
than  making  what  is  called  a  '  grand  match.' 
Still,  this  really  does  seem  rather  hopeless.  I 
am  quite  sure  her  father  would  never  approve 
of  it.  Indeed,  it  must  not  be  mentioned  to  him 
— he  would  only  be  irritated." 

"  So  long  as  you  are  not  against  us,"  said 
Horace,  "  you  won't  forbid  me  to  see  her?  " 

"  I  believe  I  ought  to,"  said  Mrs.  Futvoye; 
"  but  I  don't  object  to  your  coming  here  occa- 
sionally, as  an  ordinary  visitor.  Only  under- 
stand this — until  you  can  prove  to  my  husband's 
satisfaction  that  you  are  able  to  support  Sylvia 


AN  UNEXPECTED  OPENING  37 

in  the  manner  she  has  been  accustomed  to,  there 
must  be  no  formal  engagement.  I  think  I  am 
entitled  to  ask  that  of  you." 

She  was  so  clearly  within  her  rights,  and 
so  much  more  indulgent  than  Horace  had  ex- 
pected— for  he  had  always  considered  her  an 
unsentimental  and  rather  worldly  woman — that 
he  accepted  her  conditions  almost  gratefully. 
After  all,  it  was  enough  for  him  that  Sylvia 
returned  his  love,  and  that  he  should  be  allowed 
to  see  her  from  time  to  time. 

"  It's  rather  a  pity,"  said  Sylvia  medita- 
tively, a  little  later,  when  her  mother  had  gone 
back  to  her  letter-writing,  and  she  and  Horace 
were  discussing  the  future — "  it's  rather  a  pity 
that  you  didn't  manage  to  get  something  at  that 
sale.    It  might  have  helped  you  with  papa." 

"  Well,  I  did  get  something,  on  my  own  ac- 
count," he  said,  "  though  I  don't  know  whether 
it  is  likely  to  do  me  any  good  with  your  father." 
And  he  told  her  how  he  had  come  to  acquire 
the  brass  bottle. 

"  And  you  actually  gave  a  guinea  for  it? " 
said  Sylvia,  "  when  you  could  probably  get  ex- 
actly the  same  thing,  only  better,  at  Liberty's 
for  about  seven-and-sixpence !  Nothing  of  that 
sort  has  any  charms  for  papa,  unless  it's  dirty 
and  dingy  and  centuries  old." 


38  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  This  looks  all  that.  I  only  bought  it  be- 
cause, though  it  wasn't  down  on  the  catalogue, 
I  had  a  fancy  that  it  might  interest  the  pro- 
fessor." 

"  Oh!  "  cried  Sylvia,  clasping  her  pretty 
hands,  "  if  only  it  does,  Horace !  If  it  turns 
out  to  be  tremendously  rare  and  valuable!  I 
do  believe  dad  would  be  so  delighted  that 
he'd  consent  to  anything.  Ah,  that's  his  step 
outside  .  .  .  he's  letting  himself  in.  Now, 
mind,  you  don't  forget  to  tell  him  about  that 
bottle." 

The  professor  did  not  seem  in  the  sweetest 
of  humours  as  he  entered  the  drawing-room. 
"  Sorry  I  was  obliged  to  be  from  home,  and 
there  was  nobody  but  my  wife  and  daughter 
here  to  entertain  you.  But  I  am  glad  you 
stayed — yes,  I'm  rather  glad  you  stayed." 

"  So  am  I,  sir,"  said  Horace,  and  proceeded 
to  give  his  account  of  the  sale,  which  did  not 
serve  to  improve  the  professor's  temper.  He 
thrust  out  his  under  lip  at  certain  items  in  the 
catalogue.  "  I  wish  I'd  gone  myself,"  he  said; 
"  that  bowl,  a  really  fine  example  of  sixteenth 
century  Persian  work,  going  for  only  five 
guineas!  I'd  willingly  have  given  ten  for  it. 
There,  there,  I  thought  I  could  have  depended 
on  you  to  use  your  judgment  better  than  that." 


AN  UNEXPECTED  OPENING  39 

"  If  you  remember,  sir,  you  strictly  limited 
me  to  the  sums  you  marked." 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  the  professor 
testily;  "  my  marginal  notes  were  merely  in- 
tended as  indications,  no  more.  You  might  have 
known  that  if  you  had  secured  one  of  the  things 
at  any  price  I  should  have  approved." 

Horace  had  no  grounds  for  knowing  any- 
thing of  the  kind,  and  much  reason  for  believ- 
ing the  contrary,  but  he  saw  no  use  in  arguing 
the  matter  further,  and  merely  said  he  was  sorry 
to  have  misunderstood. 

"  No  doubt  the  fault  was  mine,"  said  the 
professor,  in  a  tone  that  implied  the  opposite. 
"  Still,  making  every  allowance  for  inexperi- 
ence in  these  matters,  I  should  have  thought  it 
impossible  for  any  one  to  spend  a  whole  day 
bidding  at  a  place  like  Hammond's  without  even 
securing  a  single  article." 

"  But,  dad,"  put  in  Sylvia,  "  Mr.  Ventimore 
did  get  one  thing — on  his  own  account.  It's  a 
brass  bottle,  not  down  in  the  catalogue,  but  he 
thinks  it  may  be  worth  something  perhaps.  And 
he'd  very  much  like  to  have  your  opinion." 

"  Tchah !  "  said  the  professor.  "  Some  mod- 
ern bazaar  work,  most  probably.  He'd  better 
have  kept  his  money.  What  was  this  bottle  of 
yours  like,  now,  eh?  " 


40  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

Horace  described  it.  "  H'm.  Seems  to  be 
what  the  Arabs  call  a  '  kum-kum,'  probably  used 
as  a  sprinkler,  or  to  hold  rose-water.  Hundreds 
of  'em  about,"  commented  the  professor  crustily. 

"  It  had  a  lid,  riveted  or  soldered  on,"  said 
Horace ;  "  the  general  shape  was  something  like 
this  ..."  And  he  made  a  rapid  sketch  from 
memory,  which  the  professor  took  reluctantly, 
and  then  adjusted  his  glasses  with  some  increase 
of  interest. 

"  Ha — the  form  is  antique,  certainly.  And 
the  top  hermetically  fastened,  eh?  That  looks 
as  if  it  might  contain  something." 

"  You  don't  think  it  has  a  genie  inside,  like 
the  sealed  jar  the  fisherman  found  in  the  Ara- 
bian Nights?  "  cried  Sylvia.  "  What  fun  if  it 
had!" 

"  By  genie,  I  presume  you  mean  a  Jinnee, 
which  is  the  more  correct  and  scholarly  term," 
said  the  professor.  "  Female,  Jinneeyeh,  and 
plural,  Jinn.  No,  I  do  not  contemplate  that 
as  a  probable  contingency.  But  it  is  not  quite 
impossible  that  a  vessel  closed  as  Mr.  Ventimore 
describes  may  have  been  designed  as  a  recep- 
tacle for  papyri  or  other  records  of  archaeological 
interest,  which  may  be  still  in  preservation.  I 
should  recommend  you,  sir,  to  use  the  greatest 
precaution  in  removing  the  lid — don't  expose 


AN  UNEXPECTED  OPENING  41 

the  documents,  if  any,  too  suddenly  to  the  outer 
air,  and  it  would  be  better  if  you  did  not  handle 
them  yourself.  I  shall  be  rather  curious  to  hear 
whether  it  really  does  contain  anything,  and  if 
so,  what." 

"  I  will  open  it  as  carefully  as  possible," 
said  Horace,  "  and  whatever  it  may  contain, 
you  may  rely  upon  my  letting  you  know  at 
once." 

He  left  shortly  afterward,  encouraged  by 
the  radiant  trust  in  Sylvia's  eyes,  and  thrilled 
by  the  soft  secret  pressure  of  her  hand  at 
parting. 

He  had  been  amply  repaid  for  all  the  hours 
he  had  spent  in  the  close  sale-room.  And  his 
luck  had  turned  at  last:  he  was  going  to  suc- 
ceed; he  felt  it  in  the  air,  as  if  he  were  already 
fanned  by  Fortune's  pinions. 

Still  thinking  of  Sylvia,  he  let  himself  into 
the  semi-detached  old-fashioned  house  on  the 
north  side  of  Vincent  Square,  where  he  had 
lodged  for  some  years.  It  was  nearly  twelve 
o'clock,  and  his  landlady,  Mrs.  Hapkin,  and  her 
husband  had  already  gone  to  bed. 

Ventimore  went  up  to  his  sitting-room,  a 
comfortable  apartment  with  two  long  windows 
opening  on  to  a  trellised  veranda  and  balcony, 
a  room  which,  as  he  had  furnished  and  decorated 


42  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

it  himself  to  suit  his  own  tastes,  had  none  of  the 
depressing  ugliness  of  typical  lodgings. 

It  was  quite  dark,  for  the  season  was  too 
mild  for  a  fire,  and  he  had  to  grope  for  the 
matches  before  he  could  light  his  lamp.  After 
he  had  done  so  and  turned  up  the  wicks,  the 
first  object  he  saw  was  the  bulbous,  long-necked 
jar  which  he  had  bought  that  afternoon,  and 
which  now  stood  on  the  stained  boards  near  the 
mantelpiece.  It  had  been  delivered  with  un- 
usual promptitude. 

Somehow  he  felt  a  sort  of  repulsion  at  the 
sight  of  it.  "  It's  a  beastlier  looking  object  than 
I  thought,"  he  said  to  himself  disgustedly.  "  A 
chimney-pot  would  be  about  as  decorative  and 
appropriate  in  my  room.  What  a  thundering 
ass  I  was  to  waste  a  guinea  on  it!  I  wonder  if 
there  really  is  anything  inside  it.  It  is  so  in- 
fernally ugly  that  it  ought  to  be  useful.  The 
professor  seemed  to  fancy  it  might  hold  docu- 
ments, and  he  ought  to  know.  Anyway,  I'll 
find  out  before  I  turn  in." 

He  grasped  it  by  its  long,  thick  neck,  and 
tried  to  twist  the  cap  off — but  it  remained  firm, 
which  was  not  surprising,  seeing  that  it  was 
thickly  coated  with  a  lavalike  crust. 

"  I  must  get  some  of  that  off  first,  and  then 
try  again,"  he  decided,  and  after  foraging  down- 


AN  UNEXPECTED  OPENING  43 

stairs,  lie  returned  with  a  hammer  and  chisel, 
with  which  he  chipped  away  the  crust  till  the 
line  of  the  cap  was  revealed,  and  an  uncouth 
metal  knob  that  seemed  to  be  a  catch. 

This  he  tapped  sharply  for  some  time,  and 
again  attempted  to  wrench  off  the  lid,  but  the 
exertion  made  him  so  hot  and  thirsty  that  he 
was  obliged  to  stop  and  mix  himself  a  whisky 
and  soda  before  resuming  the  attack. 

Then  he  gripped  the  vessel  between  his 
knees  and  put  forth  all  his  strength,  while  the 
bottle  seemed  to  rock  and  heave  under  him  in 
sympathy. 

The  cap  was  beginning  to  give  way,  very 
slightly;  one  last  wrench — and  it  came  off  in 
his  hand  with  such  suddenness  that  he  was  flung 
violently  backward,  and  hit  the  back  of  his  head 
smartly  against  an  angle  of  the  wainscot. 

He  had  a  vague  impression  of  the  bottle 
lying  on  its  side,  with  dense  volumes  of  hiss- 
ing, black  smoke  pouring  out  of  its  mouth  and 
towering  up  in  a  gigantic  column  to  the  ceil- 
ing; he  was  conscious,  too,  of  a  pungent  and 
peculiarly  overpowering  perfume.  "  I  don't 
know  what  it  smells  like,"  he  thought,  "  but 
whatever  it  is — it's  not  attar  of  roses.  I've  got 
hold  of  some  sort  of  infernal  machine,  and  I 
shall  be  all  over  the  square  in  less  than  a  sec- 


44  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

ond !  "  And,  just  as  he  arrived  at  this  cheerful 
conclusion,  he  lost  consciousness  altogether. 

He  could  not  have  been  unconscious  for  more 
than  a  few  seconds,  for  when  he  opened  his  eyes 
the  room  was  still  thick  with  smoke,  through 
which  he  dimly  discerned  the  figure  of  a  stran- 
ger, who  seemed  of  abnormal  and  almost  colos- 
sal height.  But  this  must  have  been  an  optical 
illusion  caused  by  the  magnifying  effects  of  the 
smoke;  for,  as  it  cleared,  his  visitor  proved  to 
be  of  no  more  than  ordinary  stature.  He  was 
elderly,  and,  indeed,  venerable  of  appearance, 
and  wore  an  Eastern  robe  and  head-dress  of  a 
dark-green  hue.  He  stood  there  with  uplifted 
hands,  uttering  something  in  a  loud  tone  and  a 
language  unknown  to  Horace. 

Ventimore,  being  still  somewhat  dazed,  felt 
no  surprise  at  seeing  him.  Mrs.  Rapkin  must 
have  let  her  second  floor  at  last — to  some  Ori- 
ental. He  would  have  preferred  an  English- 
man as  a  fellow-lodger,  but  this  foreigner  must 
have  noticed  the  smoke  and  rushed  in  to  offer 
assistance,  which  was  both  neighbourly  and 
plucky  of  him. 

"  Awfully  good  of  you  to  come  in,  sir,"  he 
said,  as  he  scrambled  to  his  feet.  "  I  don't 
know  what's  happened  exactly,  but  there's  no 
harm  done.     I'm  only  a  trifle  shaken,  that's 


AN  UNEXPECTED  OPENING  45 

all.  By  the  way,  I  suppose  you  can  speak  Eng- 
lish?" 

"  Assuredly  I  can  speak  so  as  to  be  under- 
stood by  all  whom  I  address,"  answered  the 
stranger.  "  Dost  thou  not  understand  my 
speech? " 

"  Perfectly,  now,"  said  Horace.  "  But  you 
made  a  remark  just  now  which  I  didn't  follow — 
would  you  mind  repeating  it?  " 

"  I  said :  '  Repentance,  O  Prophet  of  God ! 
I  will  not  return  to  the  like  conduct  ever.'  " 

"  Ah,"  said  Horace.  "  I  dare  say  you  were 
rather  startled.  So  was  I  when  I  opened  that 
bottle." 

"  Tell  me — was  it  indeed  thy  hand  that  re- 
moved the  seal,  O  young  man  of  kindness  and 
good  works  ? " 

"  I  certainly  did  open  it,"  said  Ventimore, 
"  though  I  don't  know  where  the  kindness  comes 
in — for  I've  no  notion  what  was  inside  the 
thing." 

"  I  was  inside  it,"  said  the  stranger  calmly. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AT    LARGE 

"  So  you  were  inside  that  bottle,  were  you?  " 
said  Horace  blandly.  "  How  singular !  "  He 
began  to  realize  that  he  had  to  deal  with  an  Ori- 
ental lunatic,  and  must  humour  him  to  some 
extent.  Fortunately  he  did  not  seem  at  all  dan- 
gerous, though  undeniably  eccentric  -  looking. 
His  hair  fell  in  wild  profusion  from  under  his 
high  turban  about  his  cheeks,  which  were  of  a 
uniform  pale  rhubarb  tint  ;  his  gray  beard 
streamed  out  in  three  thin  strands,  and  his  long, 
narrow  eyes,  opal  in  hue,  and  set  rather  wide 
apart  and  at  a  slight  angle,  had  a  curious  ex- 
pression, part  slyness  and  part  childlike  sim- 
plicity. 

"  Dost  thou  doubt  that  I  speak  truth?  I 
tell  thee  that  I  have  been  confined  in  that  ac- 
cursed vessel  for  countless  centuries — how  long, 
I  know  not,  for  it  is  beyond  calculation." 

"  I  should  not  have  thought  from  your  ap- 
pearance, sir,  that  you  had  been  so  many  years 
46 


AT  LARGE  47 

in  bottle  as  all  that,"  said  Horace  politely,  "  but 
it's  certainly  time  you  bad  a  cbange.  May  I, 
if  it  isn't  indiscreet,  ask  how  you  came  into  such 
a  very  uncomfortable  position?  But  probably 
you  have  forgotten  by  this  time." 

"  Forgotten !  "  said  the  other,  with  a  sombre 
red  glow  in  his  opal  eyes.  "  Wisely  was  it  writ- 
ten :  '  Let  him  that  desireth  oblivion  confer 
benefits — but  the  memory  of  an  injury  endur- 
eth  forever.'  I  forget  neither  benefits  nor  in- 
juries." 

"  An  old  gentleman  with  a  grievance," 
thought  Yentimore.  "  And  mad  into  the  bar- 
gain. Nice  person  to  have  staying  in  the  same 
house  with  one !  " 

"  Know,  O  best  of  mankind,"  continued  the 
stranger,  "  that  he  who  now  addresses  thee  is 
Fakrash-el-Aamash,  one  of  the  Green  Jinn. 
And  I  dwelt  in  the  Palace  of  the  Mountain  of 
the  Clouds  above  the  City  of  Babel  in  the  Gar- 
den of  Irem,  which  thou  doubtless  knowest  by 
repute? " 

"  I  fancy  I  have  heard  of  it,"  said  Horace, 
as  if  it  were  an  address  in  the  Court  Directory. 
"  Delightful  neighbourhood." 

"  I  had  a  kinswoman,  Bedeea-el-Jemal,  who 
possessed  incomparable  beauty  and  manifold 
accomplishments.     And  seeing  that,  though  a 


4:8  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

Jinneeyeh,  she  was  of  the  believing  Jinn,  I  de- 
spatched messengers  to  Suleyman  the  Great, 
the  son  of  Daood,  offering  him  her  hand  in  mar- 
riage. But  a  certain  Jarjarees,  the  son  of 
Kejmoos,  the  son  of  Iblees — may  he  be  forever 
accursed! — looked  with  favour  upon  the  maid- 
en, and,  going  secretly  unto  Suleyman,  per- 
suaded him  that  I  was  preparing  a  crafty  snare 
for  the  king's  undoing." 

"  And,  of  course,  you  never  thought  of  such 
a  thing? "  said  Ventimore. 

"  By  a  venomous  tongue  the  fairest  mo- 
tives may  be  rendered  foul,"  was  the  somewhat 
evasive  reply.  "  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  Su- 
leyman— on  whom  be  peace ! — listened  unto  the 
voice  of  Jarjarees  and  refused  to  receive  the 
maiden.  Moreover,  he  commanded  that  I 
should  be  seized  and  imprisoned  in  a  bottle  of 
brass  and  cast  into  the  Sea  of  El  \Karkar,  there 
to  abide  the  Day  of  Doom." 

"  Too  bad — really  too  bad !  "  murmured 
Horace,  in  a  tone  that  he  hoped  was  sufficiently 
sympathetic. 

"  But  now,  by  thy  means,  O  thou  of  noble 
ancestors  and  gentle  disposition,  my  deliver- 
ance hath  been  accomplished;  and  if  I  were  to 
serve  thee  for  a  thousand  years,  regarding  noth- 
ing else,  even  thus  could  I  not  requite  thee,  and 


AT  LARGE  49 

my  so  doing  would  be  a  small  thing  according 
to  thy  deserts!  " 

"  Pray  don't  mention  it,"  said  Horace ; 
"  only  too  pleased  if  I've  been  of  any  use  to 
you." 

"  In  the  sky  it  is  written  upon  the  pages  of 
the  air :  '  He  who  doth  kind  actions  shall  experi- 
ence the  like.'  Am  I  not  an  Efreet  of  the  Jinn? 
Demand,  therefore,  and  thou  shalt  receive." 

"Poor  old  chap!"  thought  Horace,  "he's 
very  cracked  indeed.  He'll  be  wanting  to  give 
me  a  present  of  some  sort  soon — and  of  course 
I  can't  have  that  .  .  .  My  dear  Mr.  Fakrash," 
he  said  aloud,  "  I've  done  nothing — nothing  at 
all — and  if  I  had,  I  couldn't  possibly  accept  any 
reward  for  it." 

"  What  are  thy  names,  and  what  trade  dost 
thou  follow? " 

"  I  ought  to  have  introduced  myself  before 
— let  me  give  you  my  card,"  and  Ventimore 
gave  him  one,  which  the  other  took  and  placed 
in  his  girdle.  "  That's  my  business  address. 
I'm  an  architect,  if  you  know  what  that  is — ■ 
a  man  who  builds  houses  and  churches — 
mosques,  you  know — in  fact,  anything,  when 
he  can  get  it  to  build." 

"  A  useful  calling  indeed — and  one  to  be 
rewarded  with  fine  gold." 


50  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  In  my  case,"  Horace  confessed,  "  the  re- 
ward has  been  too  fine  to  be  perceived.  In 
other  words.  I've  never  been  rewarded,  be- 
cause I've  never  yet  had  the  luck  to  get  a 
client." 

"  And  what  is  this  client  of  whom  thou 
speakest? " 

"  Oh,  well,  some  well-to-do  merchant  who 
wants  a  house  built  for  him  and  doesn't  care 
how  much  he  spends  on  it.  There  must  be  lots 
of  them  about — but  they  never  seem  to  come  in 
my  direction." 

"  Grant  me  a  period  of  delay,  and,  if  it  be 
possible,  I  will  procure  thee  such  a  client." 

Horace  could  not  help  thinking  that  any 
recommendation  from  such  a  quarter  would 
hardly  carry  much  weight;  but,  as  the  poor  old 
man  evidently  imagined  himself  under  an  ob- 
ligation, which  he  was  anxious  to  discharge,  it 
would  have  been  unkind  to  throw  cold  water 
on  his  good  intentions. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  laughing,  "  if  you 
should  come  across  that  particular  type  of  cli- 
ent, and  can  contrive  to  impress  him  with  the 
belief  that  I'm  just  the  architect  he's  looking 
out  for — which,  between  ourselves,  I  am,  though 
nobody's  discovered  it  yet — if  you  can  get  him 
to  come  to  me,  you  will  do  me  the  very  great- 


AT  LARGE  51 

est  service  I  could  ever  hope  for.  But  don't 
give  yourself  any  trouble  over  it." 

"  It  will  be  one  of  the  easiest  things  that 
can  be,"  said  his  visitor,  "  that  is  "  (and  here 
a  shade  of  rather  pathetic  doubt  crossed  his 
face)  "  provided  that  anything  of  my  former 
power  yet  remains  unto  me." 

"Well,  never  mind,  sir,"  said  Horace;  "if 
you  can't,  I  shall  take  the  will  for  the  deed." 

"  First  of  all,  it  will  be  prudent  to  learn 
where  Suleyman  is,  that  I  may  humble  myself 
before  him  and  make  my  peace." 

"  Yes,"  said  Horace  gently,  "  I  would.  I 
should  make  a  point  of  that,  sir.  Not  now,  you 
know.  He  might  be  in  bed.  To-morrow 
morning." 

"  This  is  a  strange  place  that  I  am  in,  and 
I  know  not  yet  in  what  direction  I  should  seek 
him.  But  till  I  have  found  him,  and  justified 
myself  in  his  sight,  and  had  my  revenge  upon 
Jarjarees,  mine  enemy,  I  shall  know  no  rest." 

"  Well,  but  go  to  bed  now,  like  a  sensible 
old  chap,"  said  Horace  soothingly,  anxious  to 
prevent  this  poor,  demented  Asiatic  from  fall- 
ing into  the  hands  of  the  police.  "  Plenty  of 
time  to  go  and  call  on  Suleyman  to-morrow." 

"  I  will  search  for  him,  even  unto  the  ut- 
termost ends  of  the  earth!  " 


52  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  That's  right — you're  sure  to  find  him  in 
one  of  them.  Only,  don't  you  see,  it's  no  use 
starting  to-night — the  last  trains  have  gone 
long  ago."  As  he  spoke,  the  night  wind  bore 
across  the  square  the  sound  of  Big  Ben  strik- 
ing the  quarters  in  Westminster  Clock  Tower, 
and  then,  after  a  pause,  the  solemn  boom  that 
announced  the  first  of  the  small  hours.  "  To- 
morrow," thought  Yentimore,  "  I'll  speak  to 
Mrs.  Rapkin,  and  get  her  to  send  for  a  doctor 
and  have  him  put  under  proper  care — the  poor 
old  boy  really  isn't  fit  to  go  about  alone!  " 

"  I  will  start  now — at  once,"  insisted  the 
stranger,  "  for  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost." 

"  Oh,  come !  "  said  Horace,  "  after  so  many 
thousand  years,  a  few  hours  more  or  less  won't 
make  any  serious  difference.  And  you  can't  go 
out  now — they've  shut  up  the  house.  Do  let 
me  take  you  upstairs  to  your  room,  sir? " 

"  Not  so,  for  I  must  leave  thee  for  a  sea- 
son, O  young  man  of  kind  conduct.  But  may 
thy  days  be  fortunate,  and  thy  gate  never  cease 
to  be  repaired,  and  the  nose  of  him  that  envieth 
thee  be  rubbed  in  the  dust,  for  love  for  thee 
hath  entered  into  my  heart,  and  if  it  is  per- 
mitted unto  me,  I  will  cover  thee  with  the  veils 
of  my  protection!  " 

As  he  finished  this  harangue  the  speaker 


AT  LARGE  53 

seemed,  to  Ventimore's  speechless  amazement, 
to  slip  through  the  wall  behind  him.  At  all 
events,  he  had  left  the  room  somehow — and 
Horace  found  himself  alone. 

He  rubbed  the  back  of  his  head,  which 
began  to  be  painful.  "  He  can't  really  have 
vanished  through  the  wall,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  That's  too  absurd.  The  fact  is,  I'm  over- 
excited this  evening — and  no  wonder,  after  all 
that's  happened.  The  best  thing  I  can  do  is 
to  go  to  bed  at  once !  " 

And  he  did. 


CHAPTEK  V 

CARTE    BLANCHE 

When  Yentimore  woke  next  morning  his 
headache  had  gone,  and  with  it  the  recollec- 
tion of  everything  but  the  wondrous  and  de- 
lightful fact  that  Sylvia  loved  him  and  had 
promised  to  be  his  some  day.  Her  mother,  too, 
was  on  his  side;  why  should  he  despair  of  any- 
thing after  that?  There  was  the  professor,  to 
be  sure;  but  even  he  might  be  brought  to  con- 
sent to  an  engagement,  especially  if  it  turned 
out  that  the  brass  bottle  .  .  .  and  here  Horace 
began  to  recall  an  extraordinary  dream  in 
connection  with  that  rather  speculative  pur- 
chase of  his.  He  had  dreamed  that  he  had 
forced  the  bottle  open,  and  that  it  proved  to 
contain  not  manuscripts,  but  an  elderly  Jinnee, 
who  alleged  that  he  had  been  imprisoned  there 
by  the  order  of  King  Solomon! 

What,  he  wondered,  could  have  put  so  gro- 
tesque a  fancy  into  his  head? — and  then  smiled 
as  he  traced  it  to  Sylvia's  playful  suggestion 
54 


CARTE  BLANCHE  55 

that  the  bottle  might  contain  a  "  genie,"  as 
did  the  famous  jar  in  the  Arabian  Mghts,  and 
to  her  father's  pedantic  correction  of  the  word 
to  "  Jinnee."  Upon  that  slight  foundation  his 
sleeping  brain  had  built  up  all  that  elaborate 
fabric — a  scene  so  vivid  and  a  story  so  circum- 
stantial and  plausible  that,  in  spite  of  its  ex- 
travagance, he  could  hardly  even  now  persuade 
himself  that  it  was  entirely  imaginary.  The 
psychology  of  dreams  is  a  subject  which  has  a 
fascinating  mystery,  even  for  the  least  serious 
student. 

As  he  entered  the  sitting-room,  where  his 
breakfast  awaited  him,  he  looked  round,  half 
expecting  to  find  the  bottle  lying  with  its  lid 
off  in  the  corner,  as  he  had  last  seen  it  in  his 
dream. 

Of  course  it  was  not  there — and  he  felt  an 
odd  relief.  The  auction-room  people  had  not 
delivered  it  yet,  and  so  much  the  better,  for 
he  had  still  to  ascertain  if  it  had  anything  in- 
side it;  and  who  knew  that  it  might  not  con- 
tain something  more  to  his  advantage  than  a 
maundering  old  Jinnee  with  a  grievance  sev- 
eral thousands  of  years  old? 

Breakfast  over,  he  rang  for  his  landlady, 
who  presently  appeared.  Mrs.  Eapkin  was  a 
superior  type  of  her  much-abused  class.     She 


56  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

was  scrupulously  clean  and  neat  in  her  person; 
her  sandy  hair  was  so  smooth  and  tightly  knotted 
that  it  gave  her  head  the  colour  and  shape  of 
a  Barcelona  nut;  she  had  beady  eyes,  nostrils 
that  seemed  to  smell  battle  afar  off,  a  wide, 
thin  mouth  that  apparently  closed  with  a  snap, 
and  a  dry  whitey-brown  complexion  suggestive 
of  bran. 

But,  if  somewhat  grim  of  aspect,  she  was  a 
good  soul  and  devoted  to  Horace,  in  whom  she 
took  almost  a  maternal  interest,  while  regret- 
ting that  he  was  not  what  she  called  "  serous- 
minded  enough  "  to  get  on  in  the  world.  Rap- 
kin  had  wooed  and  married  her  when  they  were 
both  in  service,  and  he  still  took  occasional  jobs 
as  an  outdoor  butler,  though  Horace  suspected 
that  his  more  staple  form  of  industry  was  the 
consumption  of  gin  and  water  and  remarkably 
full-flavoured  cigars  in  the  basement  parlour. 

"  Shall  you  be  dining  in  this  evening,  sir?  " 
inquired  Mrs.  Rapkin. 

"  I  don't  know ;  don't  get  anything  in  for 
me.  I  shall  most  probably  dine  at  the  club," 
said  Horace;  and  Mrs.  Rapkin,  who  had  a  con- 
firmed belief  that  all  clubs  were  hotbeds  of  vice 
and  extravagance,  sniffed  disapproval.  "By  the 
way,"  he  added,  "  if  a  kind  of  brass  pot  is  sent 
here,  it's  all  right.    I  bought  it  at  a  sale  yester- 


CARTE  BLANCHE  57 

day.  Be  careful  how  you  handle  it — it's  rather 
old." 

"  There  was  a  vawse  come  late  last  night, 
sir.  I  don't  know  if  it's  that — it's  old-fashioned 
enough." 

"  Then  will  you  bring  it  up  at  once,  please  ? 
I  want  to  see  it." 

Mrs.  Kapkin  retired,  to  reappear  presently 
with  the  brass  bottle.  "  I  thought  you'd  have 
noticed  it  when  you  come  in  last  night,  sir,"  she 
explained,  "  for  I  stood  it  here  in  the  corner ; 
and  when  I  see  it  this  morning  it  was  layin'  o' 
one  side,  and  looking  that  dusty  and  disrespect- 
able  I  took  it  down  to  give  it  a  good  clean — 
which  it  wanted  it." 

It  certainly  looked  rather  the  better  for  it, 
and  the  marks  or  scratches  on  the  cap  were  more 
distinguishable;  but  Horace  was  somewhat  dis- 
concerted to  find  that  part  of  his  dream  was  true 
— the  bottle  had  been  there. 

"  I  hope  I've  done  nothing  wrong,  sir,"  said 
Mrs.  Eapkin,  observing  his  expression.  "  I  only 
used  a  little  warm  ale  to  it,  which  is  a  capital 
thing  for  brasswork,  and  gave  it  a  scrub  with 
'  Vitrolia '  soap;  but  it  would  take  more  than 
that  to  git  all  the  muck  off  of  it." 

"  It's  all  right,  so  long  as  you  didn't  try  to 
get  the  top  off,"  said  Horace. 


58  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  Why,  the  top  was  off  it,  sir.  I  thought 
you'd  done  it  with  the  'ammer  and  chisel  when 
you  got  'ome,"  said  his  landlady,  staring.  "  I 
found  them  'ere  on  the  carpet." 

Horace  started ;  then  that  part  was  true,  too. 
"  Oh— ah,"  he  said,  "  I  believe  I  did.  I'd  for- 
gotten. That  reminds  me.  Haven't  you  let  the 
rooms  above  to — to  an  Oriental  gentleman — a 
native,  you  know — wears  a  green  turban? " 

"  That  I  most  certainly  'ave  not,  Mr.  Venti- 
more,"  said  Mrs.  Eapkin  with  emphasis,  "  nor 
wouldn't.  Not  if  his  turbin  was  all  the  colours 
of  the  rainbow,  for  I  don't  'old  with  such.  Why, 
there  was  Rapkin's  own  sister-in-law  let  her 
parlour  floor  to  a  Horiental — a  Parsee  he  was, 
or  one  o'  them  Hafrican  tribes — and  reason  she 
'ad  to  repent  of  it,  for  all  his  gold  spectacles! 
Whatever  made  you  fancy  I  should  let  to  a 
blackamoor? " 

"  Oh,  I  thought  I  saw  somebody  about — er 
— answering  that  description,  and  I  wondered 
if " 

"  Never  in  this  'ouse,  sir!  Mrs.  Steggars, 
next  door  but  one,  might  let  to  such,  for  all  I 
can  say  to  the  contrary,  not  being  what  you 
might  call  particular,  and  her  rooms  more  suit- 
able to  savage  notions.  But  I've  enough  on  my 
hands,  Mr.  Ventimore,  attending  to  you — not 


CARTE  BLANCHE  59 

keeping  a  girl  to  do  the  waiting,  as  why  should 
I  while  I'm  well  able  to  do  it  better  myself? " 

As  soon  as  she  relieved  him  of  her  presence 
he  examined  the  bottle ;  there  was  nothing  what- 
ever inside  it,  which  disposed  of  all  the  hopes 
he  had  entertained  from  that  quarter. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  account  for  the  vision- 
ary Oriental  as  an  hallucination  probably  in- 
spired by  the  heavy  fumes  (for  he  now  believed 
in  the  fumes)  which  had  doubtless  resulted  from 
the  rapid  decomposition  of  some  long-buried 
spices  or  similar  substances  suddenly  exposed 
to  the  air.  If  any  further  explanation  were 
needed,  the  accidental  blow  to  the  back  of  his 
head,  together  with  the  latent  suggestion  from 
the  Arabian  Nights,  would  amply  provide  it. 

So,  having  settled  these  points  to  his  entire 
satisfaction,  he  went  to  his  office  in  Great  Clois- 
ter Street,  which  he  now  had  entirely  to  him- 
self, and  was  soon  engaged  in  drafting  the  speci- 
fication for  Beevor  on  which  he  had  been 
working  when  so  fortunately  interrupted  the 
day  before  by  the  professor. 

The  work  was  more  or  less  mechanical,  and 
could  bring  him  no  credit  and  little  thanks; 
but  Horace  had  the  happy  faculty  of  doing 
thoroughly  whatever  he  undertook,  and,  as  he 
sat  there  by  his  wide-open  window,  he  soon 
5 


60  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

became  entirely  oblivious  of  all  but  the  task 
before  him. 

So  much  so  that,  even  when  the  light  be- 
came obscured  for  a  moment,  as  if  by  some 
large  and  opaque  body  in  passing,  he  did  not 
look  up  immediately;  and  when  he  did  was 
surprised  to  find  the  only  arm-chair  occupied 
by  a  portly  person  who  seemed  to  be  trying  to 
recover  his  breath. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Ventimore.  "  I 
never  heard  you  come  in." 

His  visitor  could  only  wave  his  hand  in 
courteous  deprecation,  under  which  there 
seemed  a  suspicion  of  bewildered  embarrass- 
ment. He  was  a  rosy-gilled,  spotlessly  clean 
elderly  gentleman,  with  white  whiskers;  his 
eyes,  just  then  slightly  protuberant,  were 
shrewd  but  genial;  he  had  a  wide,  jolly  mouth 
and  a  double  chin.  He  was  dressed  like  a 
man  who  is  above  disguising  his  prosperity;  he 
wore  a  large  pear-shaped  pearl  in  his  crimson 
scarf,  and  had  probably  only  lately  discarded 
his  summer  white  hat  and  white  waistcoat. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  began,  in  a  rich  throaty 
voice,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak.  "  My  dear 
sir,  you  must  think  this  a  most  unceremonious 
way  of — ah — dropping  in  on  you — of  invading 
your  privacy." 


CARTE  BLANCHE  61 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Horace,  wondering 
whether  he  could  possibly  intend  him  to  under- 
stand that  he  had  come  in  by  the  window.  "  I'm 
afraid  there  was  no  one  to  show  you  in — my 
clerk  is  away  just  now." 

"  No  matter,  sir;  no  matter.  I  found  my 
way  up — as  you  perceive.  The  important,  I 
may  say  the  essential,  fact  is  that  I  am  here." 

"  Quite  so,"  said  Horace,  "  and  may  I  ask 
what  brought  you?" 

"  What  brought — "  The  stranger's  eyes 
grew  fishlike  for  the  moment.  "  Allow  me, 
I — I  shall  come  to  that — in  good  time.  I  am 
still  a  little — as  you  can  see."  He  glanced 
round  the  room.  "  You  are,  I  think,  an  archi- 
tect, Mr. — ah — Mr. — um " 

"  Ventimore  is  my  name,"  said  Horace, 
"  and  I  am  an  architect." 

"  Ventimore,  to  be  sure !  "  He  put  his  hand 
in  his  pocket  and  produced  a  card.  "  Yes,  that 
is  the  name.  And  an  architect,  Mr.  Venti- 
more, so  I — I  am  given  to  understand,  of  im- 
mense ability." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  claim  to  be  that,"  said 
Horace,  "  but  I  may  call  myself  fairly  com- 
petent." 

"  Competent  ?  Why,  of  course  you're  com- 
petent.   Do  you  suppose,  sir,  that  I,  a  practical 


62  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

business  man,  should  come  to  any  one  who  was 
not  competent? "  he  said,  with  exactly  the  air 
of  a  man  trying  to  convince  himself — against 
his  own  judgment — that  he  was  acting  with 
the  utmost  prudence. 

"  Am  I  to  understand  that  some  one  has 
been  good  enough  to  recommend  me  to  you? " 
inquired  Horace. 

"  Certainly  not,  sir;  certainly  not.  I  need 
no  recommendation  but  my  own  judgment.  I 
— ah — have  a  tolerable  acquaintance  with  all 
that  is  going  on  in  the  art  world,  and  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion,  Mr. — er — ah — Venti- 
more — I  repeat,  the  deliberate  and  unassisted 
conclusion — that  you  are  the  one  man  living 
who  can  do  what  I  want." 

"  Delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  Horace,  genu- 
inely gratified.  "  When  did  you  see  any  of 
my  designs? " 

"  Never  mind,  sir.  I  don't  decide  without 
very  good  grounds.  It  doesn't  take  me  long  to 
make  up  my  mind,  and  when  my  mind  is 
made  up  I  act,  sir — I  act.  And,  to  come  to 
the  point,  I  have  a  small  commission,  unworthy, 
I  am  quite  aware,  of  your — ah — distinguished 
talent,  which  I  should  like  to  put  in  your 
hands." 

"  Is  he  going  to  ask  me  to  attend  a  sale  for 


CARTE  BLANCHE  63 

him?"  thought  Horace.  "I'm  hanged  if  I 
do!" 

"  I'm  rather  busy  at  present,"  he  said 
dubiously,  "  as  you  may  see.  I'm  not  sure 
whether " 

"  I'll  put  the  matter  in  a  nutshell,  sir — in 
a  nutshell.  My  name  is  Wackerbath,  Samuel 
Wackerbath — tolerably  well  known,  if  I  may 
say  so,  in  City  circles."  Horace,  of  course,  con- 
cealed the  fact  that  his  visitor's  name  and  fame 
were  unfamiliar  to  him.  "  I've  lately  bought 
a  few  acres  on  the  Hampshire  border,  near  the 
house  I'm  living  at  just  now,  and  I've  been 
thinking — as  I  was  saying  to  a  friend  only  just 
now,  as  we  were  crossing  Westminster  Bridge 
— I've  been  thinking  of  building  myself  a  little 
place  there,  just  a  humble,  unpretentious  house 
where  I  could  run  down  for  the  week-end  and 
entertain  a  friend  or  two  in  a  quiet  way,  and 
perhaps  live  there  some  part  of  the  year.  Hith- 
erto I've  rented  places  as  I  wanted  'em — old 
family  seats  and  ancestral  mansions,  and  so 
forth,  very  nice  in  their  way,  but  I  want  to 
feel  under  a  roof  of  my  own.  I  want  to  sur- 
round myself  with  the  simple  comforts,  the — ah 
— unassuming  elegance  of  an  English  country 
house.  And  you're  the  man — I  feel  more  con- 
vinced of  it  with  every  word  you  say — you're 


64  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

the  man  to  do  the  job  in  style — ah — to  execute 
the  work  as  it  should  be  done." 

Here  was  the  long-wished-for  client  at  last! 
And  it  was  satisfactory  to  feel  that  he  had  ar- 
rived in  the  most  ordinary  and  commonplace 
course,  for  no  one  could  look  at  Mr.  Samuel 
Wackerbath  and  believe  for  a  moment  that  he 
was  capable  of  floating  through  an  open  win- 
dow; he  was  not  in  the  least  that  kind  of 
person. 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  do  my  best,"  said  Hor- 
ace, with  a  calmness  that  surprised  himself. 
"  Could  you  give  me  some  idea  of  the  amount 
you  are  prepared  to  spend?  " 

"  Well,  I'm  no  Croesus — though  I  won't  say 
I'm  a  pauper  precisely — and,  as  I  remarked 
before,  I  prefer  comfort  to  splendour.  I  don't 
think  I  should  be  justified  in  going  beyond — 
well,  say  sixty  thousand." 

"  Sixty  thousand !  "  exclaimed  Horace,  who 
had  expected  about  a  tenth  of  that  sum.  "  Oh, 
not  more  than  sixty  thousand?    I  see." 

"  I  mean  on  the  house  itself,"  explained 
Mr.  "Wackerbath.  "  There  will  be  outbuildings, 
lodges,  cottages,  and  so  forth,  and  then  some 
of  the  rooms  I  should  want  specially  decorated. 
Altogether,  before  we've  finished  it  may  work 
out  at  about  a  hundred  thousand.      I  take  it 


CARTE  BLANCHE  65 

that,  with  such  a  margin,  you  could — ah — run 
me  up  something  that  in  a  modest  way  would 
take  the  shine  out  of — I  mean  to  say,  eclipse — 
anything  in  the  adjoining  counties?  " 

"  I  certainly  think,"  said  Horace,  "  that  for 
such  a  sum  as  that  I  can  undertake  that  you 
shall  have  a  house  which  will  satisfy  you." 
And  he  proceeded  to  put  the  usual  questions 
as  to  site,  soil,  available  building  materials,  the 
accommodation  that  would  be  required,  and 
so  on. 

"  You're  young,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Wackerbath 
at  the  end  of  the  interview,  "  but  I  perceive 
you  are  up  to  all  the  tricks  of  the — I  should 
say,  versed  in  the  minutice  of  your  profession. 
You  would  like  to  run  down  and  look  at  the 
ground,  eh?  Well,  that's  only  reasonable,  and 
my  wife  and  daughters  will  want  to  have  their 
say  in  the  matter — no  getting  on  without  pleas- 
ing the  ladies,  hey?  Now  let  me  see.  To-mor- 
row's Sunday.  Why  not  come  down  by  the 
8.45  a.  m.  to  Lipsfield?  I'll  have  a  trap,  or  a 
brougham  and  pair,  or  something,  waiting  for 
you — take  you  over  the  ground  myself,  bring 
you  back  to  lunch  with  us  at  Oriel  Court,  and 
talk  the  whole  thing  thoroughly  over.  Then 
we'll  send  you  up  to  town  in  the  evening,  and 
you  can  start  work  the  first  thing  on  Monday. 


e&  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

That  suit  you?  Very  well,  then,  we'll  expect 
you  to-morrow." 

With  this  Mr.  Wackerbath  departed,  leav- 
ing Horace,  as  may  be  imagined,  absolutely 
overwhelmed  by  the  suddenness  and  complete- 
ness of  his  good  fortune.  He  was  no  longer  one 
of  the  unemployed;  he  had  work  to  do,  and, 
better  still,  work  that  would  interest  him, 
give  him  all  the  scope  and  opportunity  he  could 
wish  for.  With  a  client  who  seemed  tractable, 
and  to  whom  money  was  clearly  no  object,  he 
might  carry  out  some  of  his  most  ambitious 
ideas. 

Moreover,  he  would  now  be  in  a  position  to 
speak  to  Sylvia's  father  without  fear  of  a 
repulse.  His  commission  on  sixty  thousand 
pounds  would  be  three  thousand  pounds,  and 
that  on  the  decorations  and  other  work  at  least 
as  much  again — probably  more.  In  a  year  he 
could  marry  without  imprudence;  in  two  or 
three  years  he  might  be  making  a  handsome 
income,  for  he  felt  confident  that,  with  such  a 
start,  he  would  soon  have  as  much  work  as  he 
could  undertake. 

He  was  ashamed  of  himself  for  ever  having 
lost  heart.  What  were  the  last  few  years  of 
weary  waiting  but  probation  and  preparation 
for  this  splendid  chance,  which  had  come  just 


CARTE  BLANCHE  67 

•when  he  really  needed  it,  and  in  the  most  simple 
and  natural  manner! 

He  loyally  completed  the  work  he  had  prom- 
ised to  do  for  Beevor,  who  would  have  to  dis- 
pense with  his  assistance  in  future,  and  then  he 
felt  too  excited  and  restless  to  stay  in  the  office, 
and,  after  lunching  at  his  club  as  usual,  he 
promised  himself  the  pleasure  of  going  to  Cot- 
tesmore Gardens  and  telling  Sylvia  his  good 
news. 

It  was  still  early,  and  he  walked  the  whole 
way,  as  some  vent  for  his  high  spirits,  enjoying 
everything  with  a  new  zest — the  dusky  gray- 
and-salmon  sky  before  him,  the  amber,  russet, 
and  yellow  of  the  scanty  foliage  in  Kensington 
Gardens,  the  pungent  scent  of  fallen  chestnuts 
and  acorns  and  burning  leaves,  the  blue-gray 
mist  stealing  between  the  distant  tree-trunks, 
and  then  the  cheery  bustle  and  brilliancy  of 
High  Street.  Finally  came  the  joy  of  finding 
Sylvia  all  alone,  and  witnessing  her  frank  de- 
light at  what  he  had  come  to  tell  her,  of  feeling 
her  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  holding  her  in 
his  arms,  as  their  lips  met  for  the  first  time. 
If  on  that  Saturday  afternoon  there  was  a  hap- 
pier man  than  Horace  Yentimore,  he  would 
have  done  well  to  dissemble  his  felicity,  for 
fear  of  incurring  the  jealousy  of  the  high  gods. 


68  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"When  Mrs.  Futvoye  returned,  as  she  did 
only  too  soon,  to  find  her  daughter  and  Horace 
seated  on  the  same  sofa,  she  did  not  pretend  to 
be  gratified.  "  This  is  taking  a  most  unfair 
advantage  of  what  I  was  weak  enough  to  say 
last  night,  Mr.  Ventimore,"  she  began.  "  I 
thought  I  could  have  trusted  you." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  come  so  soon,"  he  said, 
"  if  my  position  were  what  it  was  only  yester- 
day. But  it's  changed  since  then,  and  I  venture 
to  hope  that  even  the  professor  won't  object 
now  to  our  being  regularly  engaged."  And  he 
told  her  of  the  sudden  alteration  in  his  pros- 
pects. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Futvoye,  "  you  had 
better  speak  to  my  husband  about  it." 

The  professor  came  in  shortly  afterward, 
and  Horace  immediately  requested  a  five  min- 
utes' conversation  with  him  in  the  study,  which 
was  readily  granted. 

The  study  to  which  the  professor  led  the 
way  was  built  out  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and 
crowded  with  Oriental  curios  of  every  age  and 
kind;  the  furniture  had  been  made  by  Cairene 
cabinet-makers,  and  along  the  cornices  of  the 
bookcases  were  texts  from  the  Koran,  while 
every  chair  bore  the  Arabic  for  "  Welcome  " 
in  a  gilded  fire-work  on  its  leather  back;  the 


CARTE  BLANCHE  69 

lamp  was  a  perforated  mosque  lantern  with 
long  pendant  glass  tubes  like  hyacinth  glasses; 
a  mummy  case  smiled  from  a  corner  with 
laboured  bonhomie. 

"  Well,"  began  the  professor,  as  soon  as 
they  were  seated,  "  so  there  was  something  in 
the  brass  bottle  after  all,  then?  Let's  have  a 
look  at  it,  whatever  it  is." 

For  the  moment  Horace  had  almost  for- 
gotten the  bottle.  "  Oh,"  he  said,  "  I — I  got  it 
open,  but  there  was  nothing  in  it." 

"  Just  as  I  anticipated,  sir,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor. "  I  told  you  there  couldn't  be  anything 
in  a  bottle  of  that  description;  it  was  simply 
throwing  away  money  to  buy  it." 

"  I  dare  say  it  was,  but  I  wished  to  speak  to 
you  on  a  much  more  important  matter;  "  and 
Horace  briefly  explained  his  object. 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  the  professor,  rubbing  up 
his  hair  irritably,  "  dear  me !  I'd  no  idea  of 
this — no  idea  at  all.  I  was  under  the  impres- 
sion that  you  volunteered  to  act  as  escort  to  my 
wife  and  daughter  at  St.  Luc  purely  out  of  good 
nature,  to  relieve  me  from  what — to  a  man  of 
my  habits  in  that  extreme  heat — would  have 
been  an  arduous  and  distasteful  duty." 

"  I  was  not  wholly  unselfish,  I  admit,"  said 
Horace.     "  I  fell  in  love  with  your  daughter, 


70  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

sir,  the  first  day  I  met  her,  only  I  felt  I  had 
no  right,  as  a  poor  man  with  no  prospects,  to 
speak  to  her  or  you  at  that  time." 

"  A  very  creditable  feeling;  but  I've  yet 
to  learn  why  you  should  have  overcome  it." 

So,  for  the  third  time,  Ventimore  told  the 
story  of  the  sudden  turn  in  his  fortunes. 

"  I  know  this  Mr.  Samuel  Wackerbath  by 
name,"  said  the  professor,  "  one  of  the  chief 
partners  in  the  firm  of  Akers  and  Coverdale,  the 
great  estate  agents,  a  most  influential  man,  if 
you  can  only  succeed  in  satisfying  him." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  feel  any  misgivings  about 
that,  sir,"  said  Horace.  "  I  mean  to  build  him 
a  house  that  will  be  beyond  his  wildest  expecta- 
tions, and  you  see  that  in  a  year  I  shall  have 
earned  several  thousands,  and  I  need  not  say 
that  I  will  make  any  settlement  you  think 
proper  when  I  marry." 

"  When  you  are  in  possession  of  those  thou- 
sands," remarked  the  professor  dryly,  "  it  will 
be  time  enough  to  talk  of  marrying  and  mak- 
ing settlements.  Meanwhile,  if  you  and  Sylvia 
choose  to  consider  yourselves  engaged  I  won't 
object;  only  I  must  insist  on  having  your  prom- 
ise that  you  won't  persuade  her  to  marry  you 
without  her  mother's  and  my  consent." 

Ventimore  gave  this  undertaking  willingly 


CARTE  BLANCHE  71 

enough,  and  they  returned  to  the  drawing- 
room.  Mrs.  Futvoye  could  hardly  avoid  asking 
Horace,  in  his  new  character  of  fiance,  to  stay 
and  dine,  which  it  need  not  be  said  he  was  only 
too  delighted  to  do. 

"  There  is  one  thing,  my  dear — er — Hor- 
ace," said  the  professor  solemnly  after  dinner, 
when  the  neat  parlour  maid  had  left  them  at 
dessert,  "  one  thing  on  which  I  think  it  my 
duty  to  caution  you.  If  you  are  to  justify  the 
confidence  we  have  shown  in  sanctioning  your 
engagement  to  Sylvia,  you  must  curb  this  pro- 
pensity of  yours  to  needless  extravagance." 

"Papa!"  cried  Sylvia,  "what  could  have 
made  you  think  Horace  extravagant?  " 

"  Really,"  said  Horace,  "  I  should  not  have 
called  myself  particularly  extravagant." 

"  Nobody  ever  does  call  himself  particularly 
extravagant,"  retorted  the  professor;  "  but  I 
observed  at  St.  Luc  that  you  habitually  gave 
fifty  centimes  as  a  pourboire  when  twopence, 
or  even  a  penny,  would  have  been  handsome. 
And  no  one  with  any  regard  for  the  value  of 
money  would  have  given  a  guinea  for  a  worth- 
less brass  vessel  on  the  bare  chance  that  it 
might  contain  manuscripts,  which  (as  any  one 
could  have  foreseen)  it  did  not." 

"  But  it's  not  a  bad  sort  of  bottle,  sir," 


72  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

pleaded  Horace.  "  If  you  remember,  you  said 
yourself  the  shape  was  unusual.  Why 
shouldn't  it  be  worth  all  the  money — and 
more  ? " 

"  To  a  collector,  perhaps,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor, with  his.  wonted  amiability,  "  which  you 
are  not.  No,  I  can  only  call  it  a  senseless  and 
reprehensible  waste  of  money." 

"Well,  the  truth  is,"  said  Horace,  "I 
bought  it  with  some  idea  that  it  might  interest 
you." 

"  Then  you  are  mistaken,  sir.  It  does  not 
interest  me.  Why  should  I  be  interested  in  a 
metal  jar  which,  for  anything  that  appears  to 
the  contrary,  may  have  been  cast  the  other 
day  at  Birmingham?" 

"  But  there  is  something,"  said  Horace ;  "  a 
seal  or  inscription  of  some  sort  engraved  on 
the  cap.    Didn't  I  mention  it? " 

"  You  said  nothing  about  an  inscription  be- 
fore," replied  the  professor,  with  rather  more 
interest.  "  What  is  the  character — Arabic, 
Persian,  Kufic? " 

"  I  really  couldn't  say — it's  almost  rubbed 
out — queer  little  triangular  marks,  something 
like  birds'  footprints." 

"  That  sounds  like  Cuneiform,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor, "  which  would  seem  to  point  to  a  PhcEni- 


CARTE  BLANCHE  73 

cian  origin.  And,  as  I  am  acquainted  with  no 
Oriental  brass  earlier  than  the  tenth  century 
of  our  era,  I  should  regard  your  description  as 
a  priori  distinctly  unlikely.  However,  I  should 
certainly  like  to  have  an  opportunity  of  examin- 
ing the  bottle  for  myself  some  day." 

"  Whenever  you  please,  professor.  When 
can  you  come  ?  " 

"  Why,  I'm  so  much  occupied  all  day  that 
I  can't  say  for  certain  when  I  can  get  up  to 
the  office  again." 

"  My  own  days  will  be  fairly  full  now,"  said 
Horace,  "  and  the  thing's  not  at  the  office, 
but  in  my  rooms  at  Vincent  Square.  Why 
shouldn't  you  all  come  and  dine  quietly  there 
some  evening  next  week,  and  then  you  could 
examine  the  inscription  comfortably  afterward, 
you  know,  professor,  and  find  out  what  it  really 
is?  Do  say  you  will!  "  He  was  eager  to  have 
the  privilege  of  entertaining  Sylvia  in  his  own 
rooms  for  the  first  time. 

"  ~No,  no,"  said  the  professor,  "  I  see  no 
reason  why  you  should  be  troubled  with  the 
entire  family.  I  may  drop  in  alone  some  even- 
ing and  take  the  luck  of  the  pot,  sir." 

"  Thank  you,  papa,"  put  in  Sylvia,  "  but  I 
should  like  to  come  too,  please,  and  hear  what 
you  think  of  Horace's  bottle.     And  I'm  dying 


74  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

to  see  his  rooms.     I  believe  they're  fearfully 
luxurious." 

"  I  trust,"  observed  her  father,  "  that  they 
are  far  indeed  from  answering  that  description. 
If  they  did,  I  should  consider  it  a  most  unsatis- 
factory indication  of  Horace's  character." 

"  There's  nothing  magnificent  about  them, 
I  assure  you,"  said  Horace,  "  though  it's  true 
I've  had  them  done  up,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  at  my  own  expense,  but  quite  simply. 
I  couldn't  afford  to  spend  much  on  them.  But 
do  come  and  see  them.  I  must  have  a  little 
dinner,  to  celebrate  my  good  fortune;  it  will 
be  so  jolly  if  you'll  all  three  come!  " 

"  If  we  do  come,"  stipulated  the  professor, 
"  it  must  be  on  the  distinct  understanding  that 
you  don't  provide  an  elaborate  banquet.  Plain, 
simple,  wholesome  food,  well  cooked,  such  as  we 
have  had  this  evening,  is  all  that  is  necessary. 
More  would  be  ostentatious." 

"  My  dear  dad !  "  protested  Sylvia,  in  dis- 
tress at  this  somewhat  dictatorial  speech. 
"  Surely  you  can  leave  all  that  to  Horace !  " 

"  Horace,  my  dear,  understands  that,  in 
speaking  as  I  did,  I  was  simply  treating  him 
as  a  potential  member  of  my  family."  Here 
Sylvia  made  a  private  little  grimace.  "  No 
young  man  who  contemplates  marrying  should 


CARTE  BLANCHE  75 

allow  himself  to  launch  into  extravagance  on 
the  strength  of  prospects  which,  for  all  he  can 
tell,"  said  the  professor  genially,  "  may  prove 
fallacious.  On  the  contrary,  if  his  affection 
is  sincere,  he  will  incur  as  little  expense  as  pos- 
sible, put  by  every  penny  he  can  save  rather 
than  subject  the  girl  he  professes  to  love  to 
the  ordeal  of  a  long  engagement.  In  other 
words,  the  truest  lover  is  the  best  economist." 

"  I  quite  understand,  sir,"  said  Horace 
good  temperedly.  "  It  would  be  foolish  of  me 
to  attempt  any  ambitious  form  of  entertain- 
ment, especially  as  my  landlady,  though  an 
excellent  plain  cook,  is  not  exactly  a  cordon 
bleu.  So  you  can  come  to  my  modest  board 
without  misgivings." 

Before  he  left  a  provisional  date  for  the 
dinner  was  fixed  for  an  evening  toward  the  end 
of  the  next  week,  and  Horace  walked  home, 
treading  on  air  rather  than  hard  paving-stones, 
and  "  striking  the  stars  with  his  uplifted  head." 

The  next  day  he  went  down  to  Lipsfield 
and  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  whole  "Wack- 
erbath  family,  who  were  all  enthusiastic  about 
the  proposed  country  house;  the  site  was  a  fine 
one,  and  would  command  extensive  views.  He 
came  back  to  town  the  same  evening,  having 
spent  a  pleasant  day  and  learned  enough  of  his 


76  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

client's  requirements,  and,  what  was  even  more 
important,  those  of  his  client's  wife  and  daugh- 
ters, to  enable  him  to  begin  work  upon  the 
sketch  plans  the  next  morning. 

He  had  not  been  long  in  his  rooms  at  Vin- 
cent Square,  and  was  still  agreeably  engaged 
in  recalling  the  docility  and  ready  apprecia- 
tion with  which  the  Wackerbaths  had  received 
his  suggestions  and  rough  sketches,  their  com- 
pliments and  absolute  confidence  in  his  skill, 
when  he  had  a  shock  which  was  as  disagreeable 
as  it  was  certainly  unexpected. 

For  the  wall  before  him  parted  like  thin 
gauze,  and  through  it  stepped,  smiling  benig- 
nantly,  the  green-robed  form  of  Fakrash-el- 
Aamash,  the  Jinnee. 


CHAPTEK  VI 

EMBARKAS    DE    KICHESSES 

Ventimore  had  so  thoroughly  convinced 
himself  that  the  released  Jinnee  was  purely  a 
creation  of  his  own  imagination  that  he  rubbed 
his  eyes  with  a  start,  hoping  that  they  had  de- 
ceived him. 

"  Stroke  thy  head,  O  merciful  and  meri- 
torious one,"  said  his  visitor,  "  and  recover  thy 
faculties  to  receive  good  tidings.  For  it  is 
indeed  I — Fakrash-el-Aamash — whom  thou  be- 
holdest." 

"  I — I'm  delighted  to  see  you,"  said  Hor- 
ace, as  cordially  as  he  could.  "  Is  there  any- 
thing I  can  do  for  you?  " 

"  Nay,  for  hast  thou  not  done  me  the  great- 
est of  all  services  by  setting  me  free  ?  To  escape 
out  of  a  bottle  is  pleasant.  And  to  thee  I  owe 
my  deliverance." 

It  was  all  true,  then;  he  had  really  let  an 
imprisoned  Genius,  or  Jinnee,  or  whatever  it 

was,  out  of  that  bottle!     He  knew  he  could 

77 


78  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

not  be  dreaming  now — he  only  wished  he  were. 
However,  since  it  was  done,  his  best  course 
seemed  to  be  to  put  a  good  face  on  it,  and  per- 
suade this  uncanny  being  somehow  to  go  away 
and  leave  him  in  peace  for  the  future. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,  my  dear  sir,"  he  said; 
"  don't  think  any  more  about  it.  I — I — rather 
understood  you  to  say  that  you  were  starting 
on  a  journey  in  search  of  Solomon." 

"  I  have  been,  and  returned.  For  I  visited 
certain  cities  in  his  dominions,  hoping  that  by 
chance  I  might  hear  news  of  him,  but  I  re- 
frained from  asking  directly,  lest  thereby  I 
should  attract  suspicion,  and  so  Suleyman 
should  learn  of  my  escape  before  I  could  obtain 
an  audience  of  him  and  implore  justice." 

"Oh,  I  shouldn't  think  that  was  likely," 
said  Horace.  "  If  I  were  you,  I  should  go 
straight  back  and  go  on  travelling  till  I  did 
find  Suleyman." 

"  Well  was  it  said :  '  Pass  not  any  door  with- 
out knocking,  lest  haply  that  which  thou  seek- 
est  should  be  behind  it/  " 

"  Exactly,"  said  Horace.  "  Do  each  city 
thoroughly,  house  by  house,  and  don't  neglect 
the  smallest  clew.  '  If  at  first  you  don't  suc- 
ceed, try,  try,  try  again, '  as  one  of  our  own 
poets  teaches." 


EMBARRAS  DE  RICHESSES  79 

u  Try,  try,  try  again,"  echoed  the  Jin- 
nee, with  an  admiration  that  was  almost  fatu- 
ous, "  Divinely  gifted,  truly,  was  he  who  com- 
posed such  a  verse." 

"  He  has  a  great  reputation  as  a  sage,"  said 
Horace,  "  and  the  maxim  is  considered  one  of 
his  happiest  efforts.  Don't  you  think  that,  as 
the  East  is  rather  thickly  populated,  the  less 
time  you  lose  in  following  the  poet's  recom- 
mendation the  better? " 

"  It  may  be  as  thou  sayest.    But  know  this, 

0  my  son,  that  wheresoever  I  may  wander  I 
shall  never  cease  to  study  how  I  may  most 
fully  reward  thee  for  thy  kindness  toward  me. 
For  nobly  was  it  said :  l  If  I  be  possessed  of 
wealth  and  be  not  liberal,  may  my  head  never 
be  extended! '  " 

"  My  good  sir,"  said  Horace,  "  do  please 
understand  that  if  you  were  to  offer  me  any 
reward  for — for  a  very  ordinary  act  of  courtesy, 

1  should  be  obliged  to  decline  it." 

"  But  didst  thou  not  say  that  thou  wast 
sorely  in  need  of  a  client?  " 

"  That  was  so  at  the  time,"  said  Horace, 
"  but  since  I  last  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  I  have  met  with  one  who  is  all  I  could 
possibly  wish  for." 

"  I  am  indeed  rejoiced  to  hear  it,"  returned 


80  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

the  Jinnee,  "  for  I  have  succeeded  in  perform- 
ing the  first  service  which  thou  hast  demanded 
of  me." 

Horace  staggered  under  this  severe  blow  to 
his  pride;  for  the  moment  he  could  only  gasp, 
"  You — you  sent  him  to  me !  " 

"  I  and  no  other,"  said  the  Jinnee,  beam- 
ing with  satisfaction.  "  For  while,  unseen  of 
men,  I  was  circling  in  air,  resolved  to  attend 
to  thy  affair  before  beginning  my  search  for 
Suleyman — on  whom  be  peace! — it  chanced 
that  I  overheard  a  human  being  of  prosperous 
appearance  say  aloud  upon  a  bridge  that  he  de- 
sired to  erect  for  himself  a  palace  if  he  could 
but  find  an  architect.  So,  perceiving  thee  afar 
off  seated  at  an  open  casement,  I  immediately 
transported  him  to  the  place  and  delivered  him 
into  thy  hands." 

"  But  he  knew  my  name — he  had  a  memo- 
randum of  it  on  a  card  in  his  pocket,"  said 
Horace. 

"  I  furnished  him  with  the  paper  thou 
gavedst  me  containing  thy  name  and  abode, 
lest  he  should  be  ignorant  of  them." 

"  Well,  look  here,  Mr.  Fakrash,"  said  the 
unfortunate  Horace,  "  I  know  you  meant  well, 
but  never  do  a  thing  like  that  again.  If  my 
brother  architects  came  to  know  of  it,  I  should 


EMBARRAS  DE  RICHESSES  81 

be  accused  of  most  unprofessional  behaviour. 
I'd  no  idea  you  would  take  that  way  of  intro- 
ducing a  client  to  me  or  I  should  have  stopped 
it  at  once." 

"  It  was  an  error,"  said  Fakrash.  "  No 
matter.  I  will  undo  this  affair,  and  devise 
some  other  and  better  means  of  serving  thee." 

Horace  groaned.  Undo  it?  How  could  it 
be  undone  now  without  some  open  scandal! 

"  No,  no,"  he  said ;  "  for  Heaven's  sake 
leave  things  alone;  you'll  only  make  them 
worse.  Forgive  me,  my  dear  Mr.  Fakrash.  I'm 
afraid  I  must  seem  most  ungrateful;  but — but 
I  was  so  taken  by  surprise.  And  really  I  am 
extremely  obliged  to  you.  For,  though  the 
means  you  took  were — were  a  little  irregular, 
you  have  done  me  a  very  great  service." 

"  It  is  naught,"  said  the  Jinnee,  "  compared 
to  those  I  hope  to  render  so  great  a  benefactor." 

"  But  indeed  you  mustn't  think  of  trying 
to  do  any  more  for  me,"  urged  Horace,  who 
felt  the  absolute  necessity  of  driving  any 
scheme  of  further  benevolence  out  of  the  Jin- 
nee's head  once  and  for  all.  "  You  have  done 
enough.  Why,  thanks  to  you,  I  am  engaged 
to  build  a  palace  that  will  keep  me  hard  at 
work  for  ever  so  long." 

"  Are  human  beings,  then,  so  enamoured  of 


82  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

hard  labour?  "  asked  Fakrash  in  wonder.  "  It 
is  not  thus  with  the  Jinn." 

"  I  love  my  work  for  its  own  sake,"  said 
Horace,  "  and  then,  when  I  have  finished  it, 
I  shall  have  earned  a  very  fair  amount  of 
money — which  is  particularly  important  to  me 
just  now." 

"  And  why,  my  son,  art  thou  so  desirous 
to  obtain  riches? " 

"  Because,"  said  Horace,  "  unless  a  man  is 
tolerably  well  off  in  these  days  he  can  not  hope 
to  marry." 

Fakrash  smiled  with  indulgent  compassion. 
"  How  excellent  is  the  saying  of  one  of  old : 
•  He  who  adventureth  upon  matrimony  is  like 
unto  one  who  thrusteth  his  hand  into  a  sack 
containing  many  thousands  of  serpents  and  one 
eel.  Yet,  if  Fate  so  will,  he  may  draw  forth 
the  eel '  !  And  thou  art  comely,  and  of  an  age 
when  it  is  natural  to  desire  the  love  of  a 
maiden.  Therefore  be  of  good  heart  and  a 
cheerful  eye,  and  it  may  be  that  when  I  am 
more  at  leisure  I  shall  find  thee  a  helpmate 
who  shall  rejoice  thy  soul." 

"  Please  don't  trouble  to  find  me  anything  of 
the  sort,"  said  Horace  hastily,  with  a  mental 
vision  of  some  helpless  and  scandalized  stranger 
being  shot  into  his  dwelling,  like  coals.    "  I  as- 


EMBARRAS  DE  RICHESSES  83 

sure  you  I  would  much  rather  win  a  wife  for  my- 
self in  the  ordinary  way — as,  thanks  to  your 
kindness,  I  have  every  hope  of  doing  before 
long." 

"  Is  there  already  some  damsel  for  whom 
thy  heart  pineth?  If  so,  fear  not  to  tell  me 
her  name  and  dwelling-place,  and  I  'will  as- 
suredly obtain  her  for  thee." 

But  Yentimore  had  seen  enough  of  the  Jin- 
nee's Oriental  methods  to  doubt  his  tact  and 
discretion  where  Sylvia  was  concerned.  "  No, 
no,  of  course  not.  I  spoke  generally,"  he  said. 
"  It's  exceedingly  kind  of  you,  but  I  do  wish 
I  could  make  you  understand  that  I  am  over- 
paid as  it  is.  You  have  put  me  in  the  way  to 
make  a  name  and  fortune  for  myself.  If  I 
fail,  it  will  be  my  own  fault.  And,  at  all 
events,  I  want  nothing  more  from  you.  If  you 
mean  to  find  Suleyman — on  whom  be  peace! — 
you  must  go  and  live  in  the  East  altogether, 
for  he  certainly  isn't  over  here;  you  must  give 
up  your  whole  time  to  it,  keep  as  quiet  as  pos- 
sible, and  don't  be  discouraged  by  any  reports 
you  may  hear.  Above  all,  never  trouble  your 
head  about  me  or  my  affairs  again." 

"  O  thou  of  wisdom  and  eloquence,"  said 
Fakrash,  "  this  is  most  excellent  advice.  I 
will  go  then,  but  may  I  drink  the  cup  of  per- 


84  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

dition  if  I  become  unmindful  of  thy  benevo- 
lence! " 

And,  raising  bis  joined  bands  above  bis  bead 
as  be  spoke,  he  sank,  feet  foremost,  through 
the  carpet  and  was  gone. 

"  Thank  Heaven !  "  thought  Ventimore, 
"  he's  taken  the  hint  at  last.  I  don't  think  I'm 
likely  to  see  any  more  of  him.  I  feel  an  un- 
grateful brute  for  saying  so,  but  I  can't  help 
it.  I  can  not  stand  being  under  any  obligation 
to  a  Jinnee  who's  been  shut  up  in  a  beastly 
brass  bottle  ever  since  the  days  of  Solomon, 
who  probably  had  very  good  reasons  for  putting 
him  there." 

Horace  next  asked  himself  whether  he 
was  bound  in  honour  to  disclose  the  facts  to 
Mr.  "Wackerbath  and  give  him  the  opportunity 
of  withdrawing  from  the  agreement  if  he 
thought  fit. 

On  the  whole,  he  saw  no  necessity  for  tell- 
ing him  anything ;  the  only  possible  result  would 
be  to  make  his  client  suspect  his  sanity — and 
who  would  care  to  employ  an  insane  architect? 
Then,  if  he  retired  from  the  undertaking  with- 
out any  explanations,  what  could  he  say  to  Syl- 
via? "What  would  Sylvia's  father  say  to  him? 
There  would  certainly  be  an  end  to  his  engage- 
ment. 


EMBARRAS  DE  RICHESSES  85 

After  all,  lie  had  not  been  to  blame:  the 
AVackerbaths  were  quite  satisfied;  he  felt  per- 
fectly sure  that  he  could  justify  their  selection 
of  him;  he  would  wrong  nobody  by  accepting 
the  commission,  while  he  would  only  offend 
them,  injure  himself  irretrievably,  and  lose  all 
hope  of  gaining  Sylvia  if  he  made  any  attempt 
to  undeceive  them. 

And  Fakrash  was  gone,  never  to  return. 
So,  on  all  these  considerations,  Horace  decided 
that  silence  was  his  only  possible  policy;  and, 
though  some  moralists  may  condemn  his  con- 
duct as  disingenuous  and  wanting  in  true 
moral  courage,  I  venture  to  doubt  whether  any 
reader,  however  independent,  straightforward, 
and  indifferent  to  notoriety  and  ridicule,  would 
have  behaved  otherwise  in  Yentimore's  ex- 
tremely delicate  and  difficult  position. 

•  ••••••• 

Some  days  passed,  every  working  hour  of 
which  was  spent  by  Horace  in  the  rapture  of 
creation.  To  every  man  with  the  soul  of  an 
artist  in  him  there  comes — only  too  seldom  and 
delusively  in  most  cases — a  revelation  of  latent 
power  that  he  had  not  dared  to  hope  for.  And 
now,  with  Ventimore,  years  of  study  and  theo- 
rizing, which  he  had  often  been  tempted  to 
think  wasted,  began  to  bear  golden  fruit.     He 


86  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

designed  and  drew  with  a  rapidity  and  original- 
ity, a  sense  of  perfect  mastery  of  the  various 
problems  to  be  dealt  with,  and  a  delight  in  the 
working  out  of  mass  and  detail,  so  intoxicating 
that  he  almost  dreaded  lest  he  should  be  the 
victim  of  some  self-deception. 

His  evenings  were,  of  course,  spent  with  the 
Futvoyes  in  discovering  Sylvia  in  some  new 
and  yet  more  adorable  aspect.  Altogether,  he 
was  very  much  in  love,  very  happy,  and  very 
busy — three  states  not  invariably  found  in  com- 
bination. 

And,  as  he  had  foreseen,  he  had  effectually 
got  rid  of  Fakrash,  who  was  evidently  too  en- 
grossed in  the  pursuit  of  Solomon  to  think  of 
anything  else.  And  there  seemed  no  reason  why 
he  should  abandon  his  search  for  a  generation 
or  two,  for  it  would  probably  take  all  that 
time  to  convince  him  that  that  mighty  monarch 
was  no  longer  on  the  throne. 

"  It  would  have  been  too  brutal  to  tell  him 
myself,"  thought  Horace,  "  when  he  was  so 
keen  on  having  his  case  reheard.  And  it  gives 
him  an  object,  poor  old  buffer,  and  keeps  him 
from  interfering  in  my  affairs — so  it's  best  for 
both  of  us!  " 

Horace's  little  dinner  party  had  been  twice 
postponed,  till  he  had  begun  to  have  a  super- 


EMBARRAS  DE  RICHESSES  87 

stitious  fear  that  it  never  would  come  off; 
but  at  length,  the  professor  had  been  induced 
to  give  an  absolute  promise  for  a  certain 
evening. 

On  the  day  before,  after  breakfast,  Horace 
had  summoned  his  landlady  to  a  consultation 
on  the  menu.  "  Nothing  elaborate,  you  know, 
Mrs.  Rapkin,"  said  Horace,  who,  though  he 
would  have  liked  to  provide  a  feast  of  all  pro- 
curable delicacies  for  Sylvia's  refection,  was 
obliged  to  respect  her  father's  prejudices. 
"  Just  a  simple  dinner,  thoroughly  well  cooked 
and  nicely  served — as  you  know  so  well  how  to 
do  it." 

"  I  suppose,  sir,  you  would  require  Rapkin 
to  wait? " 

As  the  ex-butler  was  liable  to  trances  on 
these  occasions,  during  which  he  could  do  noth- 
ing but  smile  and  bow  with  speechless  polite- 
ness, as  he  dropped  sauce-boats  and  plates  with 
stately  and  well-bred  composure,  Horace  re- 
plied that  he  thought  of  having  some  one  in, 
to  avoid  troubling  Mr.  Rapkin;  but  his  wife 
expressed  such  confidence  in  her  husband's 
proving  equal  to  all  emergencies  that  Venti- 
more  waived  the  point,  and  left  it  to  her  to 
hire  extra  help  if  she  thought  fit. 

"  !Now  what  soup  can  you  give  us? "  he  in- 


88  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

quired,  as  Mrs.  Rapkin  stood  at  attention  and 
quite  unmollified. 

After  protracted  mental  conflict  she  grudg- 
ingly suggested  gravy  soup,  which  Horace 
thought  too  unenterprising,  and  rejected  in 
favour  of  mock-turtle.  "  Well,  then,  fish,"  he 
continued.     "How  about  fish?" 

Mrs.  Rapkin  dragged  the  depths  of  her 
culinary  resources  for  several  seconds,  and 
finally  brought  to  the  surface  what  she  called 
"  a  nice  fried  sole."  Horace  would  not  hear 
of  it,  and  urged  her  to  aspire  to  salmon;  she 
substituted  smelts,  which  he  opposed  by  a 
happy  inspiration  of  turbot  and  lobster  sauce. 
The  sauce,  however,  presented  insuperable  dif- 
ficulties to  her  mind,  and  she  offered  a  com- 
promise in  the  form  of  cod,  which  he  finally 
accepted  as  a  fish  which  the  professor  could 
hardly  censure  for  ostentation. 

Next  came  the  no  less  difficult  questions  of 
entree  or  no  entree,  of  joint  and  bird. 

"  What's  in  season  just  now?  "  said  Horace. 
"  Let  me  see,"  and  glanced  out  of  window  as 
he  spoke,  as  though  in  search  of  some  outside 
suggestion.  ..."  Camels,  by  Jove !  "  he  sud- 
denly exclaimed. 

"  Camels,  Mr.  Ventimore,  sir? "  repeated 
Mrs.  Rapkin,  in  some  bewilderment;  and  then, 


EMBARRAS  DE  RICHESSES  89 

remembering  that  he  was  given  to  untimely 
flippancy,  she  gave  a  tolerant  little  cough. 

"  I'll  be  shot  if  they  aren't  camels,"  said 
Horace.  "  What  do  you  make  of  'em,  Mrs. 
Eapkin?" 

Out  of  the  faint  mist  which  hung  over  the 
farther  end  of  the  square  advanced  a  proces- 
sion of  tall  dun-coloured  animals  with  long  deli- 
cately poised  necks  and  a  mincing  gait.  Even 
Mrs.  Rapkin  could  not  succeed  in  making  any- 
thing of  them  except  camels. 

"  What  the  deuce  does  a  caravan  of  camels 
want  in  Vincent  Square  ?  "  said  Horace,  with 
a  sudden  qualm  which  he  could  not  quite  ac- 
count for. 

"  Most  likely  they  belong  to  the  Barnum 
Show,  sir,"  suggested  his  landlady.  "  I  did 
hear  they  were  coming  to  Olympia  again  this 
year." 

"  Why,  of  course,"  said  Horace,  intensely 
relieved.  "  It's  on  their  way  from  the  Docks 
— at  least  it  isn't  out  of  their  way.  Or 
probably  the  main  road  is  up  for  repairs. 
That's  it— they'll  turn  off  to  the  left  at 
the  corner.  See,  they've  got  Arab  drivers 
with  them.  Wonderful  how  the  fellows  man- 
age them." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Rapkin, 


90  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  that  they're  coming  our  way — they  seem  to 
be  stopping  outside." 

"  Don't  talk  such  infernal — I  beg  your  par- 
don, Mrs.  Rapkin — but  why  on  earth  should  I 
Barnum  and  Bailey's  camels  come  out  of  their 
way  to  call  on  me  ?    It's  ridiculous,  you  know !  " 
said  Horace  irritably. 

"  Ridicklous  it  may  be,  sir,"  she  retorted, 
"  but  they're  all  laying  down  on  the  road  oppo- 
site our  door,  as  you  can  see,  and  them  niggers 
is  making  signs  to  you  to  come  and  speak  to 
'em." 

It  was  true  enough;  one  by  one  the  camels, 
which  were  apparently  of  the  purest  breed, 
folded  themselves  up  in  a  row  at  a  sign  from 
their  attendants,  who  were  now  making  pro- 
found salaams  toward  the  window  where  Venti- 
more  was  standing. 

"  I  suppose  I'd  better  go  down  and  see  what 
they  want,"  he  said,  with  rather  a  sickly  smile. 
"  They  may  have  lost  the  way  to  Olympia.  .  .  . 
I  only  hope  Fakrash  isn't  at  the  bottom  of  this," 
he  thought,  as  he  went  downstairs.  "  But  he'd 
come  himself;  at  all  events  he  wouldn't  send 
me  a  message  on  so  many  camels!  "  As  he  ap- 
peared on  the  doorstep,  all  the  drivers  flopped 
down  and  rubbed  their  flat  noses  on  the  curb- 
stone. 


EMBARItAS  DE  RICHESSES  91 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  get  up !  "  said  Horace 
angrily.  "  This  isn't  Hammersmith.  Turn  to 
the  left,  into  the  Vauxhall  Bridge  Road,  and 
ask  a  policeman  the  nearest  way  to  Olympia." 

"  Be  not  angry  with  thy  slaves,"  said  the 
head  driver,  in  excellent  English.  "  We  are 
here  by  command  of  Fakrash-el-Aamash,  our 
lord,  whom  we  are  bound  to  obey.  And  we 
have  brought  these  as  gifts." 

"  My  compliments  to  your  master,"  said 
Horace,  between  his  teeth,  "  and  tell  him  that 
a  London  architect  has  no  sort  of  occasion  for 
camels.  Say  that  I  am  extremely  obliged,  but 
am  compelled  to  decline  them." 

"  O  highly  born  one,"  explained  the  driver, 
"  the  camels  are  not  a  gift,  but  the  loads  which 
are  upon  the  camels.  Suffer  us  therefore,  since 
we  dare  not  disobey  our  lord's  commands,  to 
carry  these  trifling  tokens  of  his  goodwill  into 
thy  dwelling  and  depart  in  peace." 

Horace  had  not  noted  till  then  that  every 
camel  bore  a  heavy  burden,  which  the  attend- 
ants were  now  unloading.  "  Oh,  if  you  must" 
he  said,  not  too  graciously,  "  only  make  haste 
— there's  a  crowd  collecting  already,  and  I 
don't  want  to  have  a  constable  here." 

He  returned  to  his  rooms,  where  he  found 
Mrs.  Rapkin  paralyzed  with  amazement.  "  It 
7 


92  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

— it's  all  right,"  he  said.  "  I'd  forgotten — it's 
only  a  few  Oriental  things  from  the  place 
where  that  brass  bottle  came,  you  know. 
They've  left  them  here — on  approval." 

"  Seems  funny,  their  sending  their  goods 
'ome  on  camels,  sir,  doesn't  it? "  said  Mrs. 
Rapkin. 

"  Not  at  all  funny,"  said  Horace.  "  They 
— they're  an  enterprising  firm — their  way  of 
advertising." 

One  after  another  a  train  of  dusky  attend- 
ants entered,  each  of  whom  deposited  his  load 
on  the  floor  with  a  guttural  grunt  and  retired 
backward,  until  the  sitting-room  was  blocked 
with  piles  of  sacks  and  bales  and  chests,  where- 
upon the  head  driver  appeared  and  intimated 
that  the  tale  of  gifts  was  complete.  "  I  wonder 
what  sort  of  tip  this  fellow  expects,"  thought 
Horace.  "  A  sovereign  seems  shabby,  but  it's 
all  I  can  run  to.    I'll  try  him  with  that." 

But  the  overseer  repudiated  all  idea  of  a 
gratuity  with  stately  dignity,  and  as  Horace 
saw  him  to  the  gate  he  found  a  stolid  con- 
stable by  the  railings. 

"  This  won't  do,  you  know,"  said  the  con- 
stable. "  These  'ere  camels  must  move  on  or 
I  shall  'ave  to  interfere." 

"  It's   all   right,   constable,"   said   Horace, 


EMBARRAS  DE  RICHESSES  93 

pressing  into  his  hand  the  sovereign  the  head 
driver  had  rejected.  "  They're  going  to  move 
on  now.  They've  brought  me  a  few  presents 
from — from  a  friend  of  mine  in  the  East." 

By  this  time  the  attendants  had  mounted 
the  kneeling  camels,  which  rose  with  them  and 
swung  off  round  the  square  in  a  long,  swaying 
trot  that  soon  left  the  crowd  far  behind,  star- 
ing blankly  after  the  caravan  as  camel  after 
camel  disappeared  into  the  haze. 

"  I  shouldn't  mind  knowin'  that  friend  of 
yours,  sir,"  said  the  constable.  "  Open-'anded 
sort  o'  gentleman,  I  should  think." 

"  Very,"  said  Horace  savagely,  and  re- 
turned to  his  room,  which  Mrs.  Rapkin  had  now 
left. 

His  hands  shook,  though  hardly  with  joy, 
as  he  untied  some  of  the  sacks  and  bales  and 
forced  open  the  outlandish-looking  chests,  the 
contents  of  which  almost  took  away  his  breath. 

For  in  the  bales  were  carpets  and  tissues 
which  he  saw  at  a  glance  must  be  of  fabulous 
antiquity  and  beyond  all  price;  the  sacks  held 
golden  ewers  and  vessels  of  strange  workman- 
ship and  pantomimic  proportions;  the  chests 
were  full  of  jewels — ropes  of  creamy  -  pink 
pearls  as  large  as  average  onions,  strings  of  un- 
cut rubies  and  emeralds,  the  smallest  of  which 


94  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

would  have  been  a  tight  fit  in  an  ordinary  col- 
lar -  box,  and  diamonds,  roughly  faceted  and 
polished,  each  the  size  of  a  cocoa-nut,  in  whose 
hearts  quivered  a  liquid  and  prismatic  radiance. 

On  the  most  moderate  computation,  the 
total  value  of  these  gifts  would  amount  to  over 
a  thousand  millions.  Never,  probably,  in  the 
world's  history  had  any  treasury  contained  so 
rich  a  store. 

It  would  have  been  difficult  for  anybody, 
on  suddenly  finding  himself  the  possessor  of 
this  immense,  incalculable  wealth,  to  make  any 
comment  quite  worthy  of  the  situation;  but 
surely  none  could  have  been  more  inadequate 
and  unequal  to  the  occasion  than  Horace's, 
which  was  simply  a  subdued  but  heart-felt 
monosyllable — "  Damn!  " 


CHAPTEK  VII 

"  GRATITUDE A  LIVELY  SENSE  OF  FAVOURS  TO 

COME  " 

Most  men,  on  suddenly  finding  themselves 
in  possession  of  such  enormous  wealth,  would 
have  felt  some  elation.  Yentimore,  as  we  have 
seen,  was  merely  exasperated. 

And  although  this  attitude  of  his  may  strike 
the  reader  as  incomprehensible,  or  absolutely 
wrong-headed,  he  had  more  reason  on  his  side 
than  might  appear  at  a  first  view. 

It  was  undoubtedly  the  fact  that,  with  the 
money  these  treasures  represented,  he  would  be 
in  a  position  to  pay  off  the  national  debt  with- 
out sensible  inconvenience,  convulse  the  money 
markets  of  Europe  and  America,  bring  society 
to  his  feet,  make  and  unmake  kingdoms — domi- 
nate, in  short,  the  entire  world. 

"  But  then,"  as  Horace  told  himself,  with  a 
groan,  "  it  would  not  amuse  me  in  the  least  to 
pay  off  the  national  debt;  it  would  probably 
send  thousands  of  conscientious  trustees  half  out 

95 


96  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

of  their  minds  with  worry,  and  drive  millions 
of  inoffensive  investors,  who  had  hitherto  been 
satisfied  with  their  modest  two  and  a  half  per 
cent,  into  ruinous  speculation.  .  .  .  Do  I  want 
to  see  the  smartest  people  in  London  grovelling 
for  anything  they  think  they're  likely  to  get 
out  of  me?  As  I  should  be  perfectly  well 
aware  that  their  homage  was  not  paid  to  any 
personal  merit  of  mine,  I  could  hardly  consider 
it  flattering.  .  .  .  And  why  should  I  make  king- 
doms? The  only  thing  I  understand  and  care 
about  is  making  houses.  .  .  .  Then  am  I  likely 
to  be  a  better  hand  at  dominating  the  world  than 
all  the  others  who  have  tried  the  experiment? 
...  I  doubt  it." 

He  called  to  mind  all  the  millionaires  he 
had  ever  read  or  heard  of;  they  didn't  seem 
to  get  much  fun  out  of  their  riches.  The  ma- 
jority of  them  were  martyrs  to  dyspepsia.  They 
were  often  weighed  down  by  the  cares  and  re- 
sponsibilities of  their  position;  the  only  people 
who  were  unable  to  obtain  an  audience  of  them 
at  any  time  were  their  friends;  they  lived  in 
a  glare  of  publicity,  and  every  post  brought 
them  hundreds  of  begging  letters  and  a  few 
threats;  their  children  were  in  constant  danger 
from  kidnappers,  and  they  themselves,  after 
knowing  no  rest  in  life,  could  not  be  certain 


GRATITUDE  97 

that  even  their  tombs  would  be  undisturbed. 
"Whether  they  were  extravagant  or  thrifty, 
they  were  equally  maligned;  and  whatever  the 
fortune  they  left  behind  them,  they  could  be 
absolutely  certain  that  in  a  couple  of  genera- 
tions it  would  be  entirely  dissipated. 

"  And  the  biggest  millionaire  living,"  con- 
cluded Horace,  "is  a  pauper  compared  with 
me!" 

But  there  was  another  consideration — how 
was  he  to  realize  all  this  wealth?  He  knew 
enough  about  precious  stones  to  be  aware  that 
a  ruby,  for  instance,  of  the  true  "  pigeon's- 
blood  "  colour  and  the  size  of  a  melon,  as  all 
these  rubies  were,  would  be  worth,  even  when 
cut,  considerably  over  a  million;  but  who 
would  buy  it? 

"  I  think  I  see  myself,"  he  reflected  grimly, 
"  calling  on  some  diamond  merchant  in  Hatton 
Garden  with  half  a  dozen  assorted  jewels  in  a 
Gladstone  bag.  If  he  believed  they  were  genu- 
ine he'd  probably  have  a  fit,  but  most  likely 
he'd  think  I'd  invented  some  dodge  for  manu- 
facturing them,  and  had  been  fool  enough  to 
overdo  the  size.  Anyhow,  he'd  want  to  know 
how  they  came  into  my  possession — and  what 
could  I  say?  That  they  were  part  of  a  little 
present  made  to  me  by  a  Jinnee  in  grateful  ac- 


98  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

knowledgment  of  my  having  released  him  from 
a  brass  bottle  in  which  he'd  been  shut  up  for 
nearly  three  thousand  years!  Look  at  it  how 
you  will,  it's  not  convincing.  I  fancy  I  can  guess 
what  he'd  say.  And  what  an  ass  I  should  look! 
Then  suppose  the  thing  got  into  the  papers?  " 
Got  into  the  papers?  Why,  of  course  it 
would  get  into  the  papers.  As  if  it  were  pos- 
sible in  these  days  for  a  young  and  hitherto 
unemployed  architect  suddenly  to  surround 
himself  with  wondrous  carpets  and  gold  ves- 
sels and  gigantic  jewels  without  attracting  the 
notice  of  some  enterprising  journalist!  He 
would  be  interviewed ;  the  story  of  his  curiously 
acquired  riches  would  go  the  round  of  the 
papers;  he  would  find  himself  the  object  of  in- 
credulity, suspicion,  ridicule.  In  imagination 
he  could  already  see  the  head-lines  on  the  news- 
sheets: 

BOTTLED  BILLIONS!! 

AMAZING    ARABESQUES     BY    AN    ABCHITECT ! 
HE   SAYS  THE  JAB  CONTAINED  A  JINNEE. 

SENSATIONAL    STORY! 

DIVERTING  DETAILS! 

And  so  on  through  every  phase  of  alliterative 
ingenuity.  He  ground  his  teeth  at  the  mere 
thought  of  it. 


GRATITUDE  99 

Then  Sylvia  would  come  to  hear  of  it — and 
what  would  she  think?  She  would  naturally 
be  repelled,  as  any  nice-minded  girl  would  be, 
by  the  idea  that  her  lover  was  in  secret  alliance 
with  a  supernatural  being.  And  her  father 
and  mother — would  they  allow  her  to  marry  a 
man,  however  rich,  whose  riches  came  from 
such  a  questionable  source?  No  one  would  be- 
lieve that  he  had  not  made  some  unholy  bar- 
gain before  consenting  to  set  this  incarcerated 
spirit  free.  He,  who  had  acted  in  absolute 
ignorance,  who  had  persistently  declined  all  re- 
ward after  realizing  what  he  had  done! 

No,  it  was  too  much.  Try  as  he  might  to 
do  justice  to  the  Jinnee's  gratitude  and  gen- 
erosity, he  could  not  restrain  a  bitter  resent- 
ment at  the  utter  want  of  consideration  shown 
in  overloading  him  with  gifts  so  useless  and  so 
compromising.  No  Jinnee,  however  old,  how- 
ever unfamiliar  with  the  world  as  it  is  now, 
had  any  right  to  be  such  a  fool! 

And  at  this,  above  the  ramparts  of  sacks 
and  bales  which  occupied  all  the  available 
space  in  the  room,  appeared  Mrs.  Eapkin's 
face: 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you,  sir,  before  them 
parcels  came,"  she  began,  with  a  dry  cough 
of  disapproval,  "  what  you  would  like  in  the 


100  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

way  of  ongtray  to-morrow  night.  I  thought  if 
I  could  find  a  sweet-bread  at  all  reasonable " 

To  Horace,  surrounded  as  he  was  by  incal- 
culable riches,  sweet-breads,  however  unpreju- 
diced, seemed  incongruous  just  then;  the  transi- 
tion of  thought  was  too  violent. 

"  I  can't  bother  about  that  now,  Mrs.  Rap- 
kin,"  he  said;  "  we'll  settle  it  to-morrow.  I'm 
too  busy." 

"  I  suppose  most  of  the  things  will  have  to 
go  back,  sir,  if  they're  only  sent  on  approval 
like?" 

If  only  he  knew  where  and  how  he  could 
send  them  back! 

"  I — I'm  not  sure,"  he  said.  "  I  may  have 
to  keep  them." 

"  Well,  sir,  bargain  or  none,  I  wouldn't 
have  'em  as  a  gift  myself,  being  so  dusty  and 
fusty;  they  can't  be  no  use  to  nobody,  not  to 
mention  there  being  no  room  to  move,  with 
them  blocking  up  all  the  place.  I'd  better  tell 
Rapkin  to  carry  'em  all  upstairs  out  of  people's 
way." 

"Certainly  not!  "  said  Horace  sharply,  by 
no  means  anxious  for  the  Rapkins  to  discover 
the  real  nature  of  his  treasures.  "  Don't  touch 
them,  either  of  you.  Leave  them  exactly  as 
they  are — do  you  understand?  " 


GRATITUDE  101 

"As  you  please,  Mr.  Ventimore,  sir;  only, 
if  they're  not  to  be  interfered  with,  I  don't  see 
myself  how  you're  going  to  set  your  friends 
down  to  dinner  to-morrow;  that's  all!  " 

And  indeed,  considering  that  the  table  and 
every  available  chair,  and  even  the  floor,  were 
heaped  so  high  with  valuables  that  Horace  him- 
self could  only  just  squeeze  his  way  between 
the  piles,  it  did  seem  as  if  his  guests  might  find 
themselves  inconveniently  cramped. 

"  It  will  be  all  right,"  he  said,  with  an  op- 
timism he  was  very  far  from  feeling;  "  we'll 
manage,  somehow.    Leave  it  to  me." 

Before  he  left  for  his  office  he  took  the  pre- 
caution to  baffle  any  inquisitiveness  on  the  part 
of  his  landlady  by  locking  his  sitting-room  door 
and  carrying  away  the  key;  but  it  was  in  a  very 
different  mood  from  his  former  light-hearted 
confidence  that  he  sat  down  to  his  drawing- 
board  in  Great  Cloister  Street  that  morning. 
He  could  not  concentrate  his  mind;  his  enthu- 
siasm and  his  ideas  had  alike  deserted  him. 

He  flung  down  the  dividers  he  had  been 
using  and  pushed  away  the  nest  of  saucers  of 
Indian  ink  and  colours  in  a  fit  of  petulance. 
"  It's  no  good!  "  he  exclaimed  aloud.  "  I  feel  a 
perfect  duffer  this  morning.  I  couldn't  even 
design  a  decent  dog  kennel!  " 


102  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

Even  as  lie  spoke  he  became  conscious  of  a 
presence  in  the  room,  and,  looking  round,  saw 
Fakrash,  the  Jinnee,  standing  at  his  elbow, 
smiling  down  on  him  more  benevolently  than 
ever,  and  with  a  serene  expectation  of  being 
warmly  welcomed  and  thanked,  which  made 
Horace  rather  ashamed  of  his  own  inability  to 
meet  it. 

"  He's  a  thoroughly  good  -  natured  old 
chap,"  he  thought  self-reproachfully.  "  He 
means  well,  and  I'm  a  beast  not  to  feel  more 
glad  to  see  him — and  yet,  hang  it  all,  I  can't 
have  him  popping  in  and  out  of  the  office  like 
a  rabbit  whenever  the  fancy  takes  him!  " 

"  Peace  be  upon  thee ! "  said  Fakrash. 
"  Moderate  the  trouble  of  thy  heart,  and  im- 
part thy  difficulties  to  me." 

"  Oh,  they're  nothing,  thanks,"  said  Hor- 
ace, feeling  decidedly  embarrassed.  "  I  got 
stuck  over  my  work  for  the  moment,  and  it 
worried  me  a  little;  that's  all." 

"  Then  thou  hast  not  yet  received  the  gifts 
which  I  commanded  should  be  delivered  at  thy 
dwelling-place  ? " 

"Oh,  indeed  I  have!"  replied  Horace, 
"  and — and  I  really  don't  know  how  to  thank 
you  for  them." 

"  A  few  trifling  presents,"   answered   the 


GRATITUDE  103 

Jinnee,  "  and  by  no  means  suited  to  thy  dig- 
nity, yet  the  best  in  my  power  to  bestow  upon 
thee  for  the  time  being." 

"  My  dear  sir,  they  simply  overwhelm  me 
with  their  magnificence.  They're  beyond  all 
price,  and — and,  I've  no  idea  what  to  do  with 
such  a  superabundance." 

"  A  superfluity  of  good  things  is  good,"  was 
the  Jinnee's  sententious  reply. 

"  Not  in  my  particular  case.  I — I  quite 
feel  your  goodness  and  generosity,  but  indeed, 
as  I  told  you  before,  it's  really  impossible  for 
me  to  accept  any  such  reward." 

Fakrash's  brows  contracted  slightly.  "  How 
sayest  thou  that  it  is  impossible,  seeing  that 
these  things  are  already  in  thy  possession?  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Horace ;  "  but —  You  won't 
be  offended  if  I  speak  quite  plainly?  " 

"  Art  thou  not  even  as  a  son  to  me,  and  can 
I  be  angered  at  any  words  of  thine  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Horace,  with  sudden  hope, 
"  honestly,  then,  I  would  very  much  rather — 
if  you're  sure  you  don't  mind — that  you  would 
take  them  all  back  again." 

"  What?  Dost  thou  demand  that  I,  Fak- 
rash-el-x\amash,  should  consent  to  receive  back 
the  gifts  I  have  bestowed?  Are  they  then  of 
so  little  value  in  thy  sight?  " 


104  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  They're  of  too  much,  value.  If  I  took 
such  a  reward  for — for  a  very  ordinary  service, 
I  should  never  be  able  to  respect  myself  again." 

"  This  is  not  the  reasoning  of  an  intelligent 
person,"  said  the  Jinnee  coldly. 

"  If  you  think  me  a  fool  I  can't  help  it. 
I'm  not  an  ungrateful  fool,  at  all  events.  But 
I  feel  very  strongly  that  I  can't  keep  those 
gifts  of  yours." 

"  So  thou  wouldst  have  me  break  the  oath 
which  I  sware,  to  reward  thee  fitly  for  thy  kind 
action? " 

"  But  you  have  rewarded  me  already,"  said 
Horace,  "  by  contriving  that  a  wealthy  mer- 
chant should  engage  me  to  build  him  a  resi- 
dence. And — forgive  my  plain  speaking — if 
you  truly  desire  my  happiness  (as  I  am  sure 
you  do)  you  will  relieve  me  of  all  these  precious 
gems  and  merchandise,  because,  to  be  frank, 
they  will  not  make  me  happy.  On  the  con- 
trary, they  are  making  me  extremely  uncom- 
fortable." 

"  In  the  days  of  old,"  said  Fakrash,  "  all 
men  pursued  wealth,  nor  could  any  amass 
enough  to  satisfy  his  desires.  Have  riches, 
then,  become  so  contemptible  in  mortal  eyes 
that  thou  findest  them  but  an  encumbrance? 
Explain  this  matter." 


GRATITUDE  105 

Horace  felt  a  natural  difficulty  in  giving 
his  real  reasons.  "  I  can't  answer  for  other 
men,"  he  said.  "  All  I  know  is  that  I've  never 
been  accustomed  to  being  rich,  and  I'd  rather 
get  used  to  it  gradually,  and  be  able  to  feel 
that  I  owed  it,  as  far  as  possible,  to  my  own 
exertions.  For,  as  I  needn't  tell  you,  Mr.  Fak- 
rash,  riches  alone  don't  make  any  fellow  happy. 
You  must  have  observed  that  they're  apt  to 
— well,  to  land  him  in  all  kinds  of  messes  and 
worries." — "I'm  talking  like  a  confounded  copy- 
book," he  thought,  "  but  I  don't  care  how  prig- 
gish I  am  if  I  can  only  get  my  way." 

Fakrash  was  deeply  impressed.  "  O  young 
man  of  marvellous  moderation,"  he  cried, 
"  thy  sentiments  are  not  inferior  to  those  of 
the  great  Suleyman  himself — on  whom  be 
peace!  Yet  even  he  doth  not  utterly  despise 
them,  for  he  hath  gold  and  ivory  and  precious 
stones  in  abundance.  Nor  hitherto  have  I  ever 
met  a  human  being  capable  of  rejecting  them 
when  offered.  But  since  thou  seemest  sin- 
cere in  holding  that  my  poor  and  paltry  gifts 
will  not  advance  thy  welfare,  and  since  I  would 
do  thee  good  and  not  evil,  be  it  even  as  thou 
wouldst.  For  excellently  was  it  said :  '  The 
worth  of  a  present  depends  not  on  itself,  nor 
on  the  giver,  but  on  the  receiver  alone.'  " 


106  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

Horace  could  hardly  believe  that  he  had 
really  prevailed.  "  It's  extremely  good  of  you, 
sir,"  he  said,  "  to  take  it  so  well.  And,  if  you 
could  let  that  caravan  call  for  them  as  soon 
as  possible,  it  would  be  a  great  convenience  to 
me.  I  mean — er — the  fact  is,  I'm  expecting 
a  few  friends  to  dine  with  me  to-morrow,  and, 
as  my  rooms  are  rather  small  at  the  best  of 
times,  I  don't  quite  know  how  I  can  manage 
to  entertain  them  at  all  unless  something  is 
done." 

"  It  will  be  the  easiest  of  actions,"  replied 
Fakrash ;  "  therefore  have  no  fear  that,  when 
the  time  cometh,  thou  wilt  not  be  able  to  en- 
tertain thy  friends  in  a  fitting  manner.  And 
for  the  caravan,  it  shall  set  out  without  delay." 

"  By  Jove,  though,  I'd  forgotten  one  thing," 
said  Horace.  "  I've  locked  up  the  room  where 
your  presents  are;  they  won't  be  able  to  get 
in  without  the  key." 

"  Against  the  servants  of  the  Jinn  neither 
bolts  nor  bars  can  prevail.  They  shall  enter 
therein  and  remove  all  that  they  brought  thee, 
since  it  is  thy  desire." 

"  Very  many  thanks,"  said  Horace.  "  And 
you  do  really  understand  that  I'm  every  bit  as 
grateful  as  if  I  could  keep  the  things?  You 
see,  I  want  all  my  time  and  all  my  energies  to 


GRATITUDE  107 

complete  the  designs  for  this  building — which," 
he  added  gracefully,  "  I  should  never  be  in  a 
position  to  do  at  all  but  for  your  assistance." 

"  On  my  arrival,"  said  Fakrash,  "  I  heard 
thee  lamenting  the  difficulties  of  the  task. 
"Wherein  do  they  consist  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Horace,  "  it's  a  little  difficult 
to  please  all  the  different  people  concerned 
and  myself  too.  I  want  to  make  something  of 
it  that  I  shall  be  proud  of,  and  that  will  give 
me  a  reputation.  It's  a  large  house,  and  there 
will  be  a  good  deal  of  work  in  it,  but  I  shall 
manage  it  all  right." 

"  This  is  a  great  undertaking  indeed,"  re- 
marked the  Jinnee,  after  he  had  asked  various 
by  no  means  unintelligent  questions  and  re- 
ceived the  answers.  "  But  be  persuaded  that 
it  shall  all  turn  out  most  fortunately  and  thou 
shalt  obtain  great  renown.  And  now,"  he  con- 
cluded, "  I  am  compelled  to  take  leave  of  thee, 
for  I  am  still  without  any  certain  tidings  of 
Suleyman." 

"  You  must  not  let  me  keep  you,"  said  Hor- 
ace, who  had  been  on  thorns  for  some  minutes 
lest  Beevor  should  return  and  find  him  with 
his  mysterious  visitor.  "  You  see,"  he  added 
instructively,  "  so  long  as  you  will  neglect  your 
own  much  more  important  affairs  to  look  after 


108  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

mine  you  can  hardly  expect  to  make  much 
progress,  can  you?  " 

"  How  excellent  is  the  saying,"  replied  the 
Jinnee,  "  '  The  time  which  is  spent  in  doing 
kindnesses,  call  it  not  wasted.'  " 

"  Yes,  that's  very  good,"  said  Horace,  feel- 
ing driven  to  silence  this  maxim,  if  possible, 
with  one  of  his  own  invention.  "  But  we  have 
a  saying,  too — how  does  it  go?  Ah,  I  remem- 
ber. '  It  is  possible  for  a  kindness  to  be  more 
inconvenient  than  an  injury.'  " 

"  Marvellously  gifted  was  he  who  discov- 
ered such  a  saying!  "  cried  Fakrash. 

"  I  imagine,"  said  Horace,  "  he  learned  it 
from  his  own  experience.  By  the  way,  what 
place  were  you  thinking  of  drawing — I  mean 
trying — next  for  Suleyman?  " 

"  I  purpose  to  repair  to  Nineveh  and  in- 
quire there." 

"  Capital !  "  said  Ventimore,  with  hearty  ap- 
proval, for  he  hoped  that  this  would  take  the 
Jinnee  some  little  time.  "  Wonderful  city, 
Nineveh,  from  all  I've  heard,  though  not  quite 
what  it  used  to  be,  perhaps.  Then  there's 
Babylon — you  might  go  on  there.  And  if  you 
shouldn't  hear  of  him  there,  why  not  strike 
down  into  Central  Africa  and  do  that  thor- 
oughly?   Or  South  America.    It's  a  pity  to  lose 


GRATITUDE  109 

any  chance.  You've  never  been  to  South  Amer- 
ica yet." 

"  I  have  not  so  much  as  heard  of  such  a 
country,  and  how  should  Suleyman  be  there  ? " 

"  Pardon  me.  I  didn't  say  he  was  there. 
All  I  meant  to  convey  was  that  he's  quite  as 
likely  to  be  there  as  anywhere  else.  But  if 
you're  going  to  Nineveh  first,  you'd  better  lose 
no  more  time,  for  I've  always  understood  that 
it's  rather  an  awkward  place  to  get  at,  though 
probably  it  won't  take  you  very  long." 

"  I  care  not,"  said  Fakrash,  "  though  the 
search  be  long,  for  in  travel  there  are  five  ad- 
vantages  " 

"  I  know,"  interrupted  Horace,  "  so  don't 
stop  to  describe  them  now.  I  should  like  to  see 
you  fairly  started,  and  you  really  mustn't  think 
it  necessary  to  break  off  your  search  again  on 
my  account,  because,  thanks  to  you,  I  shall  get 
on  splendidly  alone  for  the  future  —  if  you'll 
kindly  see  that  that  merchandise  is  removed." 

"  Thine  abode  shall  not  be  encumbered  with 
it  for  another  hour,"  said  the  Jinnee,  "  O  thou 
judicious  one,  in  whose  estimation  wealth  is  of 
no  value.  Know  that  I  have  never  encountered 
a  mortal  who  pleased  me  as  thou  hast,  and  more- 
over be  assured  that  such  magnanimity  as  thine 
shall  not  go  without  a  recompense !  " 


HO  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  How  often  must  I  tell  you,"  said  Horace, 
in  a  fever  of  impatience,  "  that  I  am  already 
much  more  than  recompensed?  Now,  my  kind, 
generous  old  friend,"  he  added,  with  an  emo- 
tion that  was  not  wholly  insincere,  "  the  time 
has  come  to  bid  you  farewell — forever.  Let 
me  picture  you  as  revisiting  your  former 
haunts,  penetrating  to  quarters  of  the  globe 
(for,  whether  you  are  aware  of  it  or  not,  this 
earth  of  ours  is  a  globe)  hitherto  unknown  to 
you,  refreshing  your  mind  by  foreign  travel 
and  the  study  of  mankind,  but  never,  never 
for  a  moment  losing  sight  of  your  main  object, 
the  eventual  discovery  of  and  reconciliation 
with  Suleyman — on  whom  be  peace!  That  is 
the  only,  the  greatest  happiness  you  can  give 
me  now.    Good-bye,  and  bon  voyage  !  " 

"  May  Allah  never  deprive  thy  friends  of 
thy  presence!  "  returned  the  Jinnee,  who  was 
apparently  touched  by  this  exordium.  "  For 
truly  thou  art  a  most  excellent  young  man." 

And,  stepping  backward  into  the  fire-place, 
he  was  gone  in  an  instant. 

Yentimore  sank  back  in  his  chair  with  a 
sigh  of  relief.  He  had  begun  to  fear  that  the 
Jinnee  never  would  take  himself  off,  but  he 
had  gone  at  last — and  for  good. 

He  was  half  ashamed  of  himself  for  feeling 


GRATITUDE  HI 

so  glad,  for  Fakrash  was  a  good-natured  old 
thing  enough  in  his  way.  Only  he  would 
overdo  things;  he  had  no  sense  of  proportion. 
"  Why,"  thought  Horace,  "  if  a  fellow  ex- 
pressed a  modest  wish  for  a  canary  in  a  cage, 
he's  just  the  sort  of  old  Jinnee  to  bring  him 
a  whole  covey  of  rocs  in  an  aviary  about  ten 
times  the  size  of  the  Crystal  Palace.  However, 
he  does  understand  now  that  I  can't  take  any- 
thing more  from  him,  and  he  isn't  offended 
either,  so  that's  all  settled.  Now  I  can  set  to 
work  and  knock  off  these  plans  in  peace  and 
quietness." 

But  he  had  not  done  much  before  he  heard 
sounds  in  the  next  room  which  told  him  that 
Beevor  had  returned  at  last.  He  had  been 
expected  back  from  the  country  for  the  last  day 
or  two,  and  it  was  fortunate  that  he  had  de- 
layed so  long,  thought  Yentimore,  as  he  went 
in  to  see  him  and  to  tell  him  the  unexpected 
piece  of  good  fortune  that  had  come  to  him- 
self since  they  last  met.  It  is  needless  to  say 
that,  in  giving  his  account,  he  abstained  from 
any  mention  of  the  brass  bottle  or  the  Jinnee, 
as  unessential  elements  in  his  story. 

Beevor's  congratulations  were  quite  as  cor- 
dial as  could  be  expected,  as  soon  as  he  fully 
understood  that  no  hoax  was  intended.    "  "Well, 


112  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

old  man,"  he  said,  "  I  am  glad.  I  really  am, 
you  know.  To  think  of  a  prize  like  that  com- 
ing to  you  the  very  first  time!  And  you  don't 
even  know  how  this  Mr.  "Wackerbath  came  to 
hear  of  you — just  happened  to  see  your  name 
up  outside,  and  came  in,  I  expect.  Why,  I 
dare  say  if  I  hadn't  chanced  to  go  away  as  I  did 
— and  about  a  couple  of  paltry  two-thousand- 
pound  houses,  too!  Ah,  well,  I  don't  grudge 
you  your  luck,  though  it  does  seem  rather — 
It  was  worth  waiting  for;  you'll  be  cutting  me 
out  before  long,  if  you  don't  make  a  mess  of  this 
job.  I  mean — you  know,  old  chap — if  you 
don't  go  and  give  your  City  man  a  Gothic  castle 
when  what  he  wants  is  something  with  plenty 
of  plate-glass  windows  and  a  Corinthian  portico. 
That's  the  rock  I  see  ahead  for  you.  You  must 
not  mind  my  giving  you  a  word  of  warning." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Ventimore,  "  but  I  shan't 
give  him  either  a  Gothic  castle  or  plenty  of 
plate-glass.  I  venture  to  think  he'll  be  pleased 
with  the  general  idea,  as  I'm  working  it  out." 

"  Let's  hope  so,"  said  Beevor.  "  If  you  get 
into  any  difficulty,  you  know,"  he  added,  with 
a  touch  of  patronage,  "  just  you  come  to  me." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Horace,  "  I  will.  But  I'm 
getting  on  very  fairly  at  present." 

"  I  should  rather  like  to  see  what  you've 


GRATITUDE  113 

made  of  it.  I  might  be  able  to  give  you  a 
wrinkle  here  and  there." 

"  It's  awfully  good  of  you,  but  I  think  I'd 
rather  you  didn't  see  the  plans  till  they're  quite 
finished,"  said  Horace.  The  truth  was  that  he 
was  perfectly  aware  that  the  other  would  not 
be  in  sympathy  with  his  ideas,  and  Horace,  who 
had  just  been  suffering  from  a  cold  fit  of  de- 
pression about  his  work,  rather  shrank  from  any 
kind  of  criticism. 

"  Oh,  just  as  you  please,"  said  Beevor  a 
little  stiffly.  "  You  always  were  an  obstinate 
beggar.  I've  had  a  certain  amount  of  experi- 
ence, you  know,  in  my  poor  little  pottering 
way,  and  I  thought  I  might  possibly  have  saved 
you  a  cropper  or  two.  But  if  you  think  you 
can  manage  better  alone — only  don't  get  bolted 
with  by  one  of  those  architectural  hobbies  of 
yours;  that's  all." 

"  All  right,  old  fellow.  I'll  ride  my  hobby 
on  the  curb,"  said  Horace,  laughing,  as  he  went 
back  to  his  own  office,  where  he  found  that  all 
his  former  certainty  and  enjoyment  of  his  work 
had  returned  to  him,  and  by  the  end  of  the  day 
he  had  made  so  much  progress  that  his  designs 
needed  only  a  few  finishing  touches  to  be  com- 
plete enough  for  his  client's  inspection. 

Better  still,  on  returning  to  his  rooms  that 


114  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

evening,  to  change  before  going  to  Kensington, 
he  found  that  the  admirable  Fakrash  had  kept 
his  promise — every  chest,  sack,  and  bale  had 
been  cleared  away. 

"  Them  camels  come  back  for  the  things 
this  afternoon,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Rapkin,  "  and 
it  put  me  in  a  fluster  at  first,  for  I  made  sure 
you'd  locked  your  door  and  took  the  key.  But 
I  must  have  mistook — leastways  them  Arabs 
got  in  somehow.  I  hope  you  meant  everything 
to  go  back? " 

"  Quite,"  said  Horace,  "  I  saw  the — the 
person  who  sent  them  this  morning,  and  told 
him  there  was  nothing  I  cared  for  enough  to 
keep." 

"  And  like  his  impidence  sending  you  a  lot 
o'  rubbish  like  that  on  approval — and  on  camels, 
too!"  declared  Mrs.  Rapkin.  "I'm  sure  I 
don't  know  what  them  advertising  firms  will 
try  next — pushing,  I  call  it." 

Now  that  everything  was  gone,  Horace  felt 
a  little  natural  regret  and  doubt  whether  he 
need  have  been  quite  so  uncompromising  in 
his  refusal  of  the  treasures.  "  I  might  have 
kept  some  of  those  tissues  and  things  for  Syl- 
via," he  thought,  "  and  she  loves  pearls.  And 
a  prayer-carpet  would  have  pleased  the  pro- 
fessor tremendously.  .  .  .  But  no,  after  all,  it 


GRATITUDE  115 

wouldn't  have  done.  Sylvia  couldn't  go  about 
in  pearls  the  size  of  new  potatoes,  and  the  pro- 
fessor would  only  have  ragged  me  for  more  reck- 
less extravagance.  Besides,  if  I'd  taken  any 
of  the  Jinnee's  gifts,  he  might  keep  on  pouring 
more  in  till  I  should  be  just  where  I  was  before 
— or  worse  off,  really,  because  I  couldn't  de- 
cently refuse  them  then.  So  it's  best  as  it  is." 
And  really,  considering  the  temperament 
and  the  peculiar  nature  of  his  position,  it  is 
not  easy  to  see  how  he  could  have  arrived  at  any 
other  conclusion. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

bachelor's  quarters 

Horace  was  feeling  particularly  happy  as 
he  walked  back  the  next  evening  to  Vincent 
Square.  He  had  the  consciousness  of  having 
done  a  good  day's  work,  for  the  sketch  plans 
for  Mr.  Wackerbath's  mansion  were  actually 
completed  and  despatched  to  his  business  ad- 
dress, while  Horace  now  felt  a  comfortable  as- 
surance that  his  designs  would  more  than  satisfy 
his  client. 

But  it  was  not  that  which  made  him  so 
light  of  heart.  That  night  his  rooms  were  to 
be  honoured  for  the  first  time  by  Sylvia's  pres- 
ence. She  would  tread  upon  his  carpet,  sit  in 
his  chairs,  comment  upon,  and  perhaps  even 
handle,  his  books  and  ornaments — and  all  of 
them  would  retain  something  of  her  charm  for- 
ever after.  If  she  only  came! — for  even  now 
he  could  not  quite  believe  that  she  really 
would,  that  some  untoward  event  would  not 
make  a  point  of  happening  to  prevent  her,  just 
116 


BACHELOR'S  QUARTERS  117 

as  he  sometimes  doubted  whether  his  engage- 
ment was  not  too  sweet  and  wonderful  to  be 
true — or,  at  all  events,  to  last. 

As  to  the  dinner,  his  mind  was  tolerably 
easy,  for  he  had  settled  the  remaining  details 
of  the  menu  with  his  landlady  that  morning, 
and  he  could  hope  that,  without  being  so 
sumptuous  as  to  excite  the  professor's  wrath,  it 
would  still  be  not  altogether  unworthy — and 
what  foods  could  be  rare  and  dainty  enough? 
— to  be  set  before  Sylvia. 

He  would  have  liked  to  provide  champagne, 
but  he  knew  that  that  wine  would  savour  of 
ostentation  in  the  professor's  judgment,  so  he 
had  contented  himself  with  claret — a  sound 
vintage  which  he  knew  he  could  depend  upon. 
Flowers,  he  thought,  were  clearly  permissible, 
and  he  had  called  at  a  florist's  on  his  way  and 
got  some  chrysanthemums  of  palest  yellow  and 
deepest  terra-cotta,  the  finest  he  could  see. 
Some  of  them  would  look  well  on  the  centre 
of  the  table  in  an  old  Nankin  blue-and-white 
bowl  he  had;  the  rest  he  could  arrange  about 
the  room — there  would  just  be  time  to  see  to  all 
that  before  dressing. 

Occupied  with  these  thoughts,  he  turned 
into  Vincent  Square,  which  looked  vaster  than 
ever  with  the  murky  haze  inclosed  by  its  high 


118  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

railings,  and  under  a  wide  expanse  of  steel-blue 
sky,  across  which  the  clouds  were  driving  fast, 
like  ships  in  full  sail  scudding  for  harbour  be- 
fore a  storm.  Against  the  mist  below  the 
young  and  nearly  leafless  trees  showed  flat, 
black  profiles,  as  of  pressed  sea-weed,  and  the 
sky  immediately  above  the  housetops  was  tinged 
with  a  sullen  red  from  miles  of  lighted  streets; 
from  the  river  came  the  long-drawn  tooting 
of  tugs,  mingled  with  the  more  distant  wails 
and  hysterical  shrieks  of  railway  engines  on  the 
Lambeth  lines. 

And  now  he  reached  the  old  semi-detached 
house  in  which  he  lodged,  and  noticed  for  the 
first  time  how  the  trellis-work  of  the  veranda 
made,  with  the  bared  creepers  and  hanging 
baskets,  a  kind  of  decorative  pattern  against 
the  windows,  which  were  suffused  with  a  roseate 
glow  that  looked  warm  and  comfortable  and 
hospitable.  He  wondered  whether  Sylvia 
would  notice  it  when  she  arrived. 

He  passed  under  the  old  wrought-iron  arch 
that  once  held  an  oil-lamp,  and  up  a  short 
but  rather  steep  flight  of  steps  which  led  to  a 
brick  porch  built  out  at  the  side.  Then  he  let 
himself  in,  and  stood  spell-bound  with  per- 
plexed amazement,  for  he  was  in  a  strange 
house ! 


BACHELOR'S  QUARTERS  119 

In  place  of  the  modest  passage  with  the 
yellow  marble  wall-paper,  the  mahogany  hat- 
stand,  and  the  elderly  barometer  in  a  state  of 
chronic  depression  which  he  knew  so  well,  he 
found  an  arched  octagonal  entrance  hall,  with 
arabesques  of  blue,  crimson,  and  gold,  and 
richly  embroidered  hangings;  the  floor  was 
marble,  and  from  a  shallow  basin  of  alabaster 
in  the  centre  a  perfumed  fountain  rose  and 
fell  with  a  lulling  patter. 

"  I  must  have  mistaken  the  number,"  he 
thought,  quite  forgetting  that  his  latch-key  had 
fitted,  and  he  was  just  about  to  retreat  before 
his  intrusion  was  discovered,  when  the  hangings 
parted,  and  Mrs.  Rapkin  presented  herself, 
making  so  deplorably  incongruous  a  figure  in 
such  surroundings,  and  looking  so  bewildered 
and  woebegone,  that  Horace,  in  spite  of  his 
own  increasing  uneasiness,  had  some  difficulty 
in  keeping  his  gravity. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Ventimore,  sir,"  she  lamented, 
"  whatever  will  you  go  and  do  next,  I  wonder? 
To  think  of  your  going  and  having  the  whole 
place  done  up  and  altered  out  of  knowledge  like 
this,  without  a  word  of  warning!  If  any  hal- 
terations  were  required,  I  do  think  as  me  and 
Rapkin  had  the  right  to  be  consulted." 

Horace  let  all  his  chrysanthemums  drop  ira- 


120  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

heeded  into  the  fountain.  He  understood  now; 
indeed,  he  seemed  in  some  way  to  have  under- 
stood almost  from  the  first,  only  he  would  not 
admit  it  even  to  himself. 

The  irrepressible  Jinnee  was  at  the  bottom 
of  this,  of  course.  He  remembered  now  having 
made  that  unfortunate  remark  the  day  before 
about  the  limited  accommodation  his  rooms 
afforded.  Clearly  Fakrash  must  have  taken  a 
mental  note  of  it,  and,  with  that  insatiable  mu- 
nificence which  was  one  of  his  worst  failings, 
had  determined,  by  way  of  a  pleasant  surprise, 
to  entirely  refurnish  and  redecorate  the  apart- 
ments according  to  his  own  ideas. 

It  was  extremely  kind  of  him;  it  showed 
a  truly  grateful  disposition;  but,  oh — as  Hor- 
ace thought  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul — "  if  he 
would  only  learn  to  let  well  alone  and  mind 
his  own  business!  " 

However,  the  thing  was  done  now,  and  he 
must  accept  the  responsibility  for  it,  since  he 
could  hardly  disclose  the  truth.  "  Didn't  I 
mention  I  was  having  some  alterations  made  ?  " 
he  said  carelessly.  "  They've  got  the  work 
done  rather  sooner  than  I  expected.  Were — 
were  they  long  over  it? " 

"  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell  you,  sir,  having 
stepped  over  to  get  some  things  I  wanted  in  for 


BACHELOR'S  QUARTERS  121 

to-night — and  Rapkin,  he  was  round  the  corner, 
at  his  reading-room — and  when  I  come  back 
it  was  all  done  and  the  workmen  gone  'ome, 
and  how  they  could  have  finished  such  a  job  in 
the  time  beats  me  altogether,  for  when  we  'ad 
the  men  in  to  do  the  back  kitchen  they  took 
ten  days  over  it." 

"  "Well,"  said  Horace,  evading  this  point, 
"  however  they've  done  this,  they've  done  it 
remarkably  well — you'll  admit  that,  Mrs.  Rap- 
kin?" 

"  That's  as  may  be,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Eapkin, 
with  a  sniff;  "  but  it  ain't  my  taste,  nor  yet  I 
don't  think  it  will  be  Rapkin's  taste  when  he 
comes  to  see  it." 

It  was  not  Yentimore's  taste  either,  though 
he  was  not  going  to  confess  it.  "  Sorry  for 
that,  Mrs.  Rapkin,"  he  said,  "  but  I've  no 
time  to  talk  about  it  now;  I  must  rush  upstairs 
and  dress." 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  sir,  but  that's  a 
total  unpossibility,  for  they've  been  and  took 
away  the  staircase !  " 

"  Taken  away  the  staircase  ?  Nonsense !  " 
cried  Horace. 

"  So  /  think,  Mr.  Yentimore,  but  it's  what 
them  men  have  done,  and  if  you  don't  believe 
me  come  and  see  for  yourself." 


122  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

She  drew  the  hangings  aside,  and  revealed 
to  Ventimore's  astonished  gaze  a  vast  pillared 
hall  and  a  lofty  domed  roof,  from  which  hung 
several  lamps,  diffusing  a  subdued  radiance. 
High  up  in  the  wall  on  his  left  were  the  two 
windows  which  he  judged  to  have  formerly  be- 
longed to  his  sitting-room  (for  either  from  deli- 
cacy or  inability,  or  simply  because  it  had  not 
occurred  to  him,  the  Jinnee  had  not  interfered 
with  the  external  structure),  but  the  windows 
were  now  masked  by  a  perforated  and  gilded 
lattice,  which  accounted  for  the  pattern  Horace 
had  noticed  from  without. 

The  walls  were  covered  with  blue-and-white 
Oriental  tiles,  and  a  raised  platform  of  ala- 
baster on  which  were  divans  ran  round  two 
sides  of  the  hall,  while  the  side  opposite  to  him 
was  pierced  with  horseshoe-shaped  arches,  ap- 
parently leading  to  other  apartments.  The 
centre  of  the  marble  floor  was  spread  with 
costly  rugs  and  piles  of  cushions,  their  rich  hues 
glowing  through  the  gold  with  which  they  were 
intricately  embroidered. 

"  Well,"  said  the  unhappy  Horace,  scarcely 
knowing  what  he  was  saying,  "  it — it  all  looks 
very  cosy,  Mrs.  Rapkin." 

"It's  not  for  me  to  say,  sir,  but  I  should 
like  to  know  where  you  thought  of  dining? " 


BACHELOR'S  QUARTERS  123 

"  "Where?  "  said  Horace.  "  Why,  here,  of 
course.    There's  plenty  of  room." 

"  There  isn't  a  table  left  in  the  house,"  said 
Mrs.  Rapkin ;  "  so  unless  you'd  wish  the  cloth 
laid  on  the  floor " 

"  Oh,  there  must  be  a  table  somewhere," 
said  Horace  impatiently,  "  or  you  can  borrow 
one.  Don't  make  difficulties,  Mrs.  Rapkin.  Rig 
up  anything  you  like  .  .  .  Now  I  must  be  off 
and  dress!  " 

He  got  rid  of  her,  and,  on  entering  one  of 
the  archways,  discovered  a  smaller  room,  in 
cedar  wood  incrusted  with  ivory  and  mother-of- 
pearl,  which  was  evidently  his  bed-room.  A 
gorgeous  robe,  stiff  with  gold  and  glittering 
with  uncut  gems,  was  laid  out  for  him  (for  the 
Jinnee  had  thought  of  everything),  but  Venti- 
more  naturally  preferred  his  own  evening 
clothes. 

"Mr.  Rapkin!"  he  shouted,  going  to  an- 
other arch  that  seemed  to  communicate  with 
the  basement. 

"  Sir !  "  replied  his  landlord,  who  had  just 
returned  from  his  "  reading-room,"  and  now  ap- 
peared, without  a  tie  and  in  his  shirt  sleeves, 
looking  pale  and  wild,  as  was  perhaps  intelli- 
gible in  the  circumstances.  As  he  entered  his 
unfamiliar  marble  halls,  he  staggered  and  his 


124  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

red  eyes  rolled  and  his  mouth  gaped  in  a  cod- 
like fashion: 

"  They've  been  at  it  'ere  too,  seemin'ly," 
he  remarked  huskily. 

"  There  have  been  a  few  changes,"  said 
Horace  quietly,  "  as  you  can  see.  You  don't 
happen  to  know  where  they've  put  my  dress 
clothes,  do  you? " 

"  I  don't  'appen  to  know  where  they've  put 
nothink.  Your  dress  clothes — why,  I  dunno 
where  they've  bin  and  put  our  little  parler, 
where  me  and  Maria  'ave  set  of  a  hevening  all 
these  years  regular — I  dunno  where  they've  put 
the  pantry,  nor  yet  the  bath-room,  with  'ot  and 
cold  water  laid  on  at  my  own  expense.  And 
you  arsk  me  to  find  your  hevening  soot !  I  con- 
sider, sir,  I  consider  that  a  unwall — that  a  most 
unwarranterrible  liberty  'ave  bin  took  at  my 
expense." 

"  My  good  man,  don't  talk  rubbish !  "  said 
Horace. 

"  I'm  talking  to  you  about  what  I  Icnow, 
and  I  assert  that  an  Englishman's  'ome  is 
his  castle,  and  nobody's  got  the  right  when  his 
back'sh  turned  to  go  and  make  a  'ummums  of  it. 
Not  nobody  'asn't." 

"  Make  a  what  of  it?  "  cried  Ventimore. 

"  A  'ummums — that's  English,  ain't  it?    A 


BACHELOR'S  QUARTERS  125 

bloomin'  Tukkish  baths!  "Who  do  you  suppose 
is  goin'  to  take  apartments  furnished  in  this 
'ere  ridic'loush  style?  What  am  I  goin'  to 
say  to  my  landlord?  It'll  about  ruing  me,  this 
"will,  and  after  you  bein'  a  lodger  'ere  for  five 
year  and  more,  and  regarded  by  me  and  Maria 
in  the  light  of  one  of  the  f  am'ly.  It's  'ard — it's 
damned  'ard." 

"  Kow,  look  here,"  said  Ventimore  sharply, 
for  it  was  obvious  that  Mr.  Rapkin's  studies 
had  been  lightened  by  copious  refreshment. 
"  Pull  yourself  together,  man,  and  listen  to 
me." 

"  I  respeckfully  decline  to  pull  myself  to- 
gerrer  f  'r  anybody  livin',"  said  Mr.  Rapkin,  with 
a  noble  air.    "  I  shtan'  'ere  upon  my  dignity  as 

a  man,  sir.     I  shay,  I  shtand  'ere  upon " 

Here  he  waved  his  hand,  and  sat  down  suddenly 
on  the  marble  floor. 

"  You  can  stand  on  anything  you  like — or 
can,"  said  Horace,  "  but  hear  what  I've  got  to 
say.  The — the  people  who  made  all  these 
alterations  went  beyond  my  instructions — I 
never  wanted  the  house  interfered  with  like 
this.  Still,  if  your  landlord  does  not  see  that 
it's  value  is  immensely  improved,  he's  a  fool; 
that's  all.  Anyway,  I'll  take  care  you  shan't 
suffer.    If  I  have  to  put  everything  back  in  its 


126  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

former  state,  I  will,  at  my  own  expense.  So 
don't  bother  any  more  about  that." 

"  You're  a  gen'l'man,  Mr.  Ventimore,"  said 
Rapkin,  cautiously  regaining  his  feet.  "There's 
no  mishtaking  a  gen'l'man.    Fm  a  gen'l'man." 

"  Of  course  you  are,"  said  Horace  genially, 
"  and  I'll  tell  you  how  you're  going  to  show  it. 
You're  going  straight  downstairs  to  get  your 
good  wife  to  pour  some  cold  water  over  your 
head;  and  then  you  will  finish  dressing,  see  what 
you  can  do  to  get  a  table  of  some  sort  and  lay 
it  for  dinner,  and  be  ready  to  announce  my 
friends  when  they  arrive  and  wait  afterward. 
Do  you  see? " 

"  That  will  be  all  ri',  Mr.  Ventimore,"  said 
Rapkin,  who  was  not  far  gone  enough  to  be 
beyond  understanding  and  obeying.  "  You 
leave  it  entirely  to  me.  I'll  unnertake  that 
your  friends  shall  be  made  comforrable,  perf elly 
comforrable.  I've  lived  as  butler  in  the  besht, 
the  mosht  exclu — most  arishto — you  know  the 
sort  of  families  I'm  tryin'  to  r'member — and — 
and — everything  was  always  all  ri',  and  I  shall 
be  all  ri'  in  a  few  minutes." 

With  this  assurance  he  stumbled  downstairs, 
leaving  Horace  relieved,  to  some  extent.  Rap- 
kin  would  be  sober  enough  after  his  head  had 
been  under  the  tap  for  a  few  minutes,  and  in 


BACHELOR'S  QUARTERS  127 

any  case  there  would  be  the  hired  waiter  to  rely 
upon. 

If  he  could  only  find  out  where  his  evening 
clothes  were!  He  returned  to  his  room  and 
made  another  futile  search,  but  they  were 
nowhere  to  be  found,  and,  as  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  receive  his  guests  in  his  ordinary 
morning  costume — which  the  professor  would 
probably  construe  as  a  deliberate  slight,  and 
which  would  certainly  seem  a  solecism  in  Mrs. 
Futvoye's  eyes,  if  not  in  her  daughter's — he 
decided  to  put  on  the  Eastern  robes,  with  the 
exception  of  a  turban,  which  he  could  not  man- 
age to  wind  round  his  head. 

Thus  arrayed,  he  re-entered  the  domed  hall, 
where  he  was  annoyed  to  find  that  no  attempt 
had  been  made  as  yet  to  prepare  a  dinner-table, 
and  he  was  just  looking  forlornly  round  for  a 
bell  when  Rapkin  appeared.  He  had  appar- 
ently followed  Horace's  advice,  for  his  hair 
looked  wet  and  sleek  and  he  was  comparatively 
sober. 

"This  is  too  bad!"  cried  Horace.  "My 
friends  may  be  here  at  any  moment  now — and 
nothing  done!  You  don't  propose  to  wait  at 
table  like  that,  do  you? "  he  added,  as  he  noted 
the  man's  overcoat  and  the  comforter  round 
his  throat. 


128  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  I  do  not  propose  to  wait  in  any  garments 
whatsoever,"  said  Rapkin.  "  I'm  a-goin'  out, 
I  am." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Horace.  "  Then  send  the 
waiter  up.    I  suppose  he's  come." 

"  He  come — but  he  went  away  again.  I 
told  him  as  he  would  not  be  required." 

"  You  told  him  that !  "  Horace  said  an- 
grily, and  then  controlled  himself.  "  Come, 
Rapkin,  be  reasonable.  You  can't  really  mean 
to  leave  your  wife  to  cook  the  dinner,  and  serve 
it  too!" 

"  She  ain't  intending  to  do  neither ;  she've 
left  the  house  already." 

"  You  must  fetch  her  back!  "  cried  Horace. 
"  Good  heavens,  man !  Can't  you  see  what  a 
fix  you're  leaving  me  in?  My  friends  have 
started  long  ago — it's  too  late  to  wire  to  them, 
or  make  any  other  arrangements." 

There  was  a  knock,  as  he  spoke,  at  the  front 
door,  and  odd  enough  was  the  familiar  sound  of 
the  cast-iron  knocker  in  that  Arabian  hall. 

"  There  they  are!  "  he  said;  and  the  idea  of 
meeting  them  at  the  door  and  proposing  an  in- 
stant adjournment  to  a  restaurant  occurred  to 
him,  till  he  suddenly  recollected  that  he  would 
have  to  change  and  try  to  find  some  money, 
even  for  that.    "  For  the  last  time,  Rapkin,"  he 


BACHELOR'S  QUARTERS  129 

cried,  in  despair,  "  do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
there's  no  dinner  ready?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Rapkin,  "  there's  dinner  right 
enough,  and  a  lot  o'  barbarious  furreners  down 
stairs  a-cookin'  of  it.  That's  what  broke  Maria's 
'art — to  see  it  all  took  out  of  her  'ands,  after 
the  trouble  she'd  gone  to." 

"  But  I  must  have  somebody  to  wait !  "  ex- 
claimed Horace. 

"  You've  got  waiters  enough,  as  fur  as  that 
goes.  But  if  you  expect  a  hordinary  Christian 
man  to  wait  along  of  a  lot  o'  narsty  niggers,  and 
be  at  their  beck  and  call,  you're  mistook,  sir, 
for  I'm  going  to  sleep  the  night  at  my  brother- 
in-law's  and  take  his  advice,  he  bein'  a  door- 
keeper at  a  solicitor's  orfice,  and  knowing  the 
law,  about  this  'ere  business,  and  so  I  wish  you 
a  good  hevening,  and  'oping  your  dinner  will 
be  to  your  liking  and  satisfaction." 

He  went  out  by  the  farther  archway,  while 
from  the  entrance  hall  Horace  could  hear  voices 
he  knew  only  too  well.  The  Futvoyes  had 
come;  well,  at  all  events  it  seemed  that  there 
would  be  something  for  them  to  eat,  since  Fak- 
rash,  in  his  anxiety  to  do  the  thing  thoroughly, 
had  furnished  both  the  feast  and  attendance 
himself — but  who  was  there  to  announce  his 
guests?    Where  were  these  waiters  Rapkin  had 


130  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

spoken  of?  Ought  he  to  go  and  bring  in  his 
visitors  himself? 

These  questions  answered  themselves  the 
next  instant,  for,  as  he  stood  there  under  the 
dome,  the  curtains  of  the  central  arch  were 
drawn  with  a  rattle,  and  disclosed  a  double  line 
of  tall  slaves  in  rich  raiment,  their  onyx  eyes 
rolling  and  their  teeth  flashing  in  their  choco- 
late-hued  countenances  as  they  salaamed. 

Between  this  double  line  stood  Professor 
and  Mrs.  Futvoye  and  Sylvia,  who  had  just  re- 
moved their  wraps  and  were  gazing  in  undis- 
guised astonishment  on  the  splendours  which 
met  their  view. 

Horace  advanced  to  receive  them;  he  felt 
he  was  in  for  it  now,  and  the  only  course  left 
him  was  to  put  as  good  a  face  as  he  could  on 
the  matter,  and  trust  to  luck  to  pull  him 
through  without  discovery  or  disaster. 


CHAPTER  IX 

PERSIC0S    ODI,    PUER,    APPARATUS 


1 


"  So  you've  found  your  way  here  at  last!  " 
said  Horace,  as  he  shook  hands  heartily  with 
the  professor  and  Mrs.  Futvoye.  "  I  can't  say 
how  delighted  I  am  to  see  you." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  he  was  very  far  from 
being  at  ease,  which  made  him  rather  over- 
effusive,  but  he  was  determined  that,  if  he 
could  help  it,  he  would  not  betray  the  slightest 
consciousness  of  anything  bizarre  or  unusual  in 
his  domestic  arrangements. 

"And  these,"  said  Mrs.  Futvoye,  who  was 
extremely  stately  in  black,  with  old  lace  and 
steel  embroidery,  "  these  are  the  bachelor  lodg- 
ings you  were  so  modest  about!  Really,"  she 
added,  with  a  humorous  twinkle  in  her  shrewd 
eves>  "  y°u  voung  men  seem  to  understand  how 
to  make  yourselves  comfortable — don't  they, 
Anthony?  " 

"  They  do,  indeed,"  said  the  professor  dryly, 
though  he  was  secretly  impressed  by  all  he  be- 

131 


132  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

held.  "  To  produce  such  results  as  these  must, 
if  I  mistake  not,  have  entailed  infinite  research 
and  considerable  expense." 

"No,"  said  Horace.  "No.  You— you'd 
be  surprised  if  you  knew  how  little." 

"  I  should  have  imagined,"  retorted  the 
professor,  "  that  any  outlay  on  apartments 
which  I  presume  you  do  not  contemplate  oc- 
cupying for  an  extended  period  must  be  money 
thrown  away.     But  doubtless  you  know  best." 

"  But  your  rooms  are  quite  wonderful,  Hor- 
ace !  "  cried  Sylvia,  her  charming  eyes  dilat- 
ing with  admiration.  "  And  where,  where  did 
you  get  that  magnificent  dressing-gown?  I 
never  saw  anything  so  lovely  in  my  life!  " 

She  herself  was  lovely  enough  in  a  shim- 
mering billowy  frock  of  a  delicate  apple-green 
hue,  her  only  ornament  a  deep-blue  Egyptian 
scarab  with  spread  wings,  which  was  suspended 
from  her  neck  by  a  slender  gold  chain. 

"  I — I  ought  to  apologize  for  receiving  you 
in  this  costume,"  said  Horace,  with  embarrass- 
ment, "  but  the  fact  is  I  couldn't  find  my  even- 
ing clothes  anywhere,  so — so  I  put  on  the  first 
things  that  came  to  hand." 

"  It  is  hardly  necessary,"  said  the  professor, 
conscious  of  being  correctly  clad,  and  uncon- 
scious that  his  shirt  front  was  bulging  and  his 


"PERSICOS  ODI,   PUER,  APPARATUS"     133 

long  -  eared  white  tie  beginning  to  work  up 
toward  his  left  ear,  "  hardly  necessary  to  offer 
any  apology  for  the  simplicity  of  your  costume, 
which  is  entirely  in  keeping  with  the — ah — 
strictly  Oriental  character  of  your  interior." 

"  I  feel  dreadfully  out  of  keeping,"  said 
Sylvia,  "  for  there's  nothing  in  the  least  Ori- 
ental about  me — unless  it's  my  scarab,  and 
he's  I  don't  know  how  many  centuries  behind 
the  time,  poor  dear." 

"  If  you  said  '  thousands  of  years,'  my 
dear,"  corrected  the  professor,  "  you  would  be 
more  accurate.  That  scarab  was  taken  out  of 
a  tomb  of  the  thirteenth  dynasty." 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  he'd  rather  be  where  he 
is,"  said  Sylvia,  and  Ventimore  entirely  agreed 
with  her.  "  Horace,  I  must  look  at  every- 
thing. How  clever  and  original  of  you  to  trans- 
form an  ordinary  London  house  into  this!  " 

"  Oh,  well,  you  see,"  explained  Horace,  "  it 
— it  wasn't  exactly  done  by  me." 

"  Whoever  did  it,"  said  the  professor, 
"  must  have  devoted  considerable  study  to  East- 
ern art  and  architecture.  May  I  ask  the  name 
of  the  firm  who  executed  the  alterations? " 

"  I  really  couldn't  tell  you,  sir,"  answered 
Horace,  who  was  beginning  to  understand  how 
very  bad  a  mauvais  quart  d'heure  can  be. 


134  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  You  can't  tell  me !  "  exclaimed  the  pro- 
fessor. "  You  order  these  extensive,  and  I 
should  say  expensive,  decorations,  and  you 
don't  know  the  firm  you  selected  to  carry  them 
out!  " 

"  Of  course  I  know"  said  Horace,  "  only 
I  don't  happen  to  remember  at  this  moment. 
Let  me  see,  now.  Was  it  Liberty?  No,  I'm 
almost  certain  it  was  not  Liberty.  It  might 
have  been  Maple — but  I'm  not  sure.  "Who- 
ever did  do  it,  they  were  marvellously  cheap." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  professor, 
in  his  most  unpleasant  tone.  "  Where  is  your 
dining-room? " 

"  Why,  I  rather  think,"  said  Horace  help- 
lessly, as  he  saw  a  train  of  attendants  laying 
a  round  cloth  on  the  floor,  "  I  rather  think 
this  is  the  dining-room." 

"  You  appear  to  be  in  some  doubt,"  said 
the  professor. 

"  I  leave  it  to  them — it  depends  where  they 
choose  to  lay  the  cloth,"  said  Horace ;  "  some- 
times in  one  place,  sometimes  in  another. 
There's  a  great  charm  in  uncertainty,"  he 
faltered. 

"  Doubtless,"  said  the  professor.  By  this 
time  two  of  the  slaves,  under  the  direction  of 
a  tall  and  turbaned  black,  had  set  a  low  ebony 


"PERSICOS  ODI,  PUER,  APPARATUS"     135 

stool,  inlaid  "with  silver  and  tortoise-shell  in 
strange  devices,  on  the  round  carpet,  when 
other  attendants  followed  with  a  circular  silver 
tray  containing  covered  dishes,  which  they 
placed  on  the  stool  and  salaamed. 

"  Your — ah — groom  of  the  chambers,"  said 
the  professor,  "  seems  to  have  decided  that  we 
should  dine  here.  I  observe  they  are  making 
signs  to  you  that  the  food  is  on  the  table." 

"  So  it  is,"  said  Yentimore.  "  Shall  we  sit 
down? " 

"  My  dear  Horace,"  said  Mrs.  Futvoye, 
"  your  butler  has  forgotten  the  chairs." 

"  You  don't  appear  to  realize,  my  dear," 
said  the  professor,  "  that  chairs  would  be  glar- 
ingly inappropriate  here." 

"  I'm  afraid  there  aren't  any,"  said  Horace, 
for  there  was  nothing  but  four  fat  cushions. 
"  Let's  sit  down  on  these,"  he  proposed.  "  It — 
it's  more  fun." 

"  At  my  time  of  life,"  said  the  professor 
irritably,  as  he  let  himself  down  on  the  plump- 
est cushion,  "  such  fun  as  may  be  derived  from 
eating  one's  meals  on  the  floor  fails  to  appeal 
to  my  sense  of  humour.  However,  since  you 
are  so  determined  to  be  Oriental,  no  doubt 
you  are  right  to  preserve  the  strictest  accuracy 
in  matters  of  detail." 


136  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"I  think  it's  delightful,"  said  Sylvia. 
"  Ever  so  much  nicer  than  a  stiff,  conventional 
dinner  party." 

"  One  may  be  unconventional,"  remarked 
her  father,  "  without  escaping  the  penalty  of 
stiffness.  Go  away,  sir,  go  away!  "  he  added 
snappishly  to  one  of  the  slaves,  who  was  at- 
tempting to  pour  water  over  his  hands.  "  Your 
servant,  Ventimore,  appears  to  imagine  that  I 
go  out  to  dinner  without  taking  the  trouble  to 
wash  my  hands  previously.  This,  I  may  men- 
tion, is  not  the  case." 

"  It's  only  an  Eastern  ceremony,  profess- 
or," said  Horace. 

"  I  am  perfectly  well  aware  of  what  is  cus- 
tomary in  the  East,"  retorted  the  professor. 
"  It  does  not  follow  that  such — ah — hygienic 
precautions  are  either  necessary  or  desirable  at 
a  Western  table." 

Horace  made  no  reply;  he  was  too  much 
occupied  in  gazing  blankly  at  the  silver  dish- 
covers  and  wondering  what  in  the  world  might 
be  underneath,  nor  was  his  perplexity  relieved 
when  the  covers  were  removed,  for  he  was 
quite  at  a  loss  to  guess  how  he  was  supposed 
to  help  the  contents  without  so  much  as  a 
fork. 

The  chief  attendant,  however,  solved  this 


"PERSICOS  ODI,   PUER,   APPARATUS"     137 

difficulty  by  intimating  in  pantomime  that  the 
guests  were  expected  to  use  their  fingers. 

Sylvia  accomplished  this  daintily  and  with 
intense  amusement,  but  her  father  and  mother 
made  no  secret  of  their  repugnance.  "  If  I 
were  dining  in  the  desert  with  a  sheik,  sir," 
observed  the  professor,  "  I  should,  I  hope,  know 
how  to  conform  to  his  habits  and  prejudices. 
Here,  in  the  heart  of  London,  I  confess  all  this 
strikes  me  as  a  piece  of  needless  pedantry." 

"  I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Horace.  "  I'd  have 
some  knives  and  forks  if  I  could,  but  I'm 
afraid  these  fellows  don't  even  understand  what 
they  are,  so  it's  useless  to  order  any.  We — we 
must  rough  it  a  little;  that's  all.  I  hope  that 
— er — fish  is  all  right,  professor?  " 

He  did  not  know  precisely  what  kind  of  fish 
it  was,  but  it  was  fried  in  oil  of  sesame  and 
flavoured  with  a  mixture  of  cinnamon  and 
ginger,  and  the  professor  did  not  appear  to  be 
making  much  progress  with  it.  Ventimore 
himself  would  have  infinitely  preferred  the 
original  cod  and  oyster  sauce,  but  that  could 
not  be  helped  now. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  professor,  "  it  is 
curious — but  characteristic.  Not  any  more, 
thank  you." 

Horace    could    only    trust    that    the    next 


138  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

course  would  be  more  of  a  success.  It  was  a 
dish  of  mutton,  stewed  with  peaches,  jujubes, 
and  sugar,  which  Sylvia  declared  was  delicious. 
Her  parents  made  no  comment. 

"  Might  I  ask  for  something  to  drink? " 
said  the  professor  presently,  whereupon  a  cup- 
bearer poured  him  a  goblet  of  iced  sherbet 
perfumed  with  conserve  of  violets.  "  I'm 
very  sorry,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  after 
sipping  it,  "  but  if  I  drink  this  I  shall  be 
ill  all  next  day.  If  I  might  have  a  glass  of 
wine " 

Another  slave  instantly  handed  him  a  cup 
of  wine,  which  he  tasted  and  set  down  with  a 
wry  face  and  a  shudder.  Horace  tried  some 
afterward,  and  was  not  surprised.  It  was  a 
strong,  harsh  wine,  in  which  goat-skin  and  resin 
struggled  for  predominance. 

"  It's  an  old,  and  I  make  no  doubt  a  fine 
wine,"  observed  the  professor,  with  studied  po- 
liteness, "  but  I  fancy  it  must  have  suffered 
in  transportation.  I  really  think  that,  with 
my  gouty  tendency,  a  little  whisky  and  Apol- 
linaris  would  be  better  for  me — if  you  keep 
such  Occidental  fluids  in  the  house  ? " 

Horace  felt  convinced  that  it  would  be  use- 
less to  order  the  slaves  to  bring  whisky  or  Apol- 
linaris,  which  were  of  course  unknown  in  the 


"PERSICOS  ODI,   PUER,  APPARATUS"    139 

Jinnee's  time,  so  he  could  do  nothing  but  apolo- 
gize for  their  absence. 

"  No  matter,"  said  the  professor.  "  I  am 
not  so  thirsty  that  I  can  not  wait  till  I  get 
home." 

It  was  some  consolation  that  both  Sylvia 
and  her  mother  commended  the  sherbet,  and 
even  appreciated  (or  were  so  obliging  as  to  say 
they  appreciated)  the  entree,  which  consisted  of 
rice  and  mince-meat  wrapped  in  vine  leaves, 
and  certainly  was  not  appetizing  in  appearance, 
besides  being  difficult  to  dispose  of  gracefully. 

It  was  followed  by  a  whole  lamb  fried  in 
oil,  stuffed  with  pounded  pistachio  nuts,  pepper, 
nutmeg,  and  coriander  seeds,  and  liberally  be- 
sprinkled with  rose-water  and  musk. 

Only  Horace  had  sufficient  courage  to  at- 
tack the  lamb,  and  he  found  reason  to  regret  it. 

Afterward  came  fowls  stuffed  with  raisins, 
parsley,  and  crumbled  bread,  and  the  banquet 
ended  with  pastry  of  weird  forms  and  repellent 
aspect. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Horace  anxiously,  "  you 
don't  find  this  Eastern  cookery  very — er — un- 
palatable? "  He  himself  was  feeling  distinctly 
unwell.  "  It's  rather  a  change  from  the  ordi- 
nary routine." 

"  I  have  made  a  truly  wonderful  dinner, 
10 


140  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

thank  you,"  replied  the  professor,  not,  it  is  to 
be  feared,  without  intention.  "  Even  in  the 
East  I  have  eaten  nothing  approaching  this." 

"  But  where  did  your  landlady  pick  up  this 
extraordinary  cookery,  my  dear  Horace? "  said 
Mrs.  Futvoye.  "  I  thought  you  said  she  was 
merely  a  plain  cook.  Has  she  ever  lived  in  the 
East?" 

"  Not  exactly  in  the  East,"  explained  Hor- 
ace; "not  what  you  would  call  living  there. 
The  fact  is,"  he  continued,  feeling  that  he  was 
in  danger  of  drivelling,  and  that  he  had  better 
be  as  candid  as  he  could,  "  this  dinner  wasn't 
cooked  by  her.  She — she  was  obliged  to  go 
away  quite  suddenly.  So  the  dinner  was  all 
sent  in  by — by  a  sort  of  contractor,  you  know. 
He  supplies  the  whole  thing,  waiters  and  all!  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  the  professor,  "  that 
for  a  bachelor — an  engaged  bachelor — you 
seemed  to  maintain  rather  a  large  establish- 
ment." 

"  Oh,  they're  only  here  for  the  evening, 
sir,"  said  Horace.  "  Capital  fellows — more  pic- 
turesque than  the  local  green-grocer — and  they 
don't  breathe  on  the  top  of  your  head." 

"  They're  perfect  dears,  Horace,"  re- 
marked Sylvia,  "  only — well,  just  a  little 
creepy-crawly  to  look  at !  " 


"PERSICOS   ODI,   PUER,   APPARATUS"    141 

"  It  would  ill  become  me  to  criticise  the 
style  and  method  of  our  entertainment,"  put 
in  the  professor  acidly,  "  otherwise  I  might 
be  tempted  to  observe  that  it  scarcely  showed 
that  regard  for  economy  which  I  should 
have " 

"  Now,  Anthony,"  put  in  his  wife,  "  don't 
let  us  have  any  fault-finding.  I'm  sure  Horace 
has  done  it  all  delightfully — yes,  delightfully; 
and  even  if  he  has  been  just  a  little  extravagant, 
it's  not  as  if  he  was  obliged  to  be  as  economical 
now,  you  know." 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  professor,  "  I  have 
yet  to  learn  that  the  prospect  of  an  increased 
income  in  the  remote  future  is  any  justification 
for  reckless  profusion  in  the  present." 

"  If  you  only  knew,"  said  Horace,  "  you 
wouldn't  call  it  profusion.  It — it's  not  at  all 
the  dinner  I  meant  it  to  be,  and  I'm  afraid  it 
wasn't  particularly  nice,  but  it's  certainly  not 
expensive." 

"  '  Expensive  '  is  of  course  a  very  relative 
term.  But  I  think  I  have  the  right  to  ask 
whether  this  is  the  footing  on  which  you  pro- 
pose to  begin  your  married  life? " 

It  was  an  extremely  awkward  question,  as 
the  reader  will  perceive.  If  Ventimore  replied 
— as  he  might  with  truth — that  he  had  no  in- 


142  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

tention  whatever  of  maintaining  his  wife  in 
luxury  such  as  that,  he  sat  convicted  of  selfish 
indulgence  as  a  bachelor;  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
he  declared  that  he  did  propose  to  maintain' 
his  wife  in  the  same  fantastic  and  exaggerated 
splendour  as  the  present,  it  would  certainly  con- 
firm her  father's  disbelief  in  his  prudence  and 
economy. 

And  it  was  that  egregious  old  ass  of  a 
Jinnee,  as  Horace  thought,  with  suppressed 
rage,  who  had  let  him  in  for  all  this,  and  who 
was  now  far  beyond  all  remonstrance  or  re- 
proach ! 

Before  he  could  bring  himself  to  answer 
the  question,  the  attendants  had  noiselessly  re- 
moved the  tray  and  stool,  and  were  handing 
round  rose-water  in  a  silver  ewer  and  basin,  the 
character  of  which,  luckily  or  otherwise,  turned 
the  professor's  inquisitiveness  into  a  different 
channel. 

"  These  are  not  bad — really  not  bad  at  all," 
he  said,  inspecting  the  design.  "  Where  did 
you  manage  to  pick  them  up? " 

"I  didn't,"  said  Horace.  "They're  pro- 
vided by  the — the  person  who  supplies  the 
dinner." 

"  Can  you  give  me  his  address? "  said  the 
professor,  scenting  a  bargain.    "Because,  really, 


"PERSICOS  ODI,  PUER,   APPARATUS"     143 

you  know,  these  things  are  probably  antiques — 
I  much  too  good  to  be  used  for  business  pur- 
poses." 

"  I'm  wrong,"  said  Horace  lamely;  "  these 
particular  things  are — are  lent.  By  an  eccen- 
tric Oriental  gentleman,  as  a  great  favour." 

"  Do  I  know  him?  Is  he  a  collector  of  such 
things?" 

"  You  wouldn't  have  met  him — he — he's 
lived  a  very  retired  life  of  late." 

"  I  should  very  much  like  to  see  his  collec- 
tion. If  you  could  give  me  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction  " 

"  !Nb,"  said  Horace,  in  a  state  of  prickly 
heat,  "  it  wouldn't  be  any  use.  His  collection 
is  never  shown.  He — he's  a  most  peculiar  man. 
And  just  now  he's  abroad." 

"  Ah,  pardon  me,  if  I've  been  indiscreet, 
but  I  concluded  from  what  you  said  that  this 
— ah — banquet  was  furnished  by  a  professional 
caterer." 

"  Oh,  the  banquet?  Yes,  that  came  from 
the  stores,"  said  Horace  mendaciously.  "  The 
— the  Oriental  Cookery  Department.  They've 
just  started  it,  you  know,  so — so  I  thought  I'd 
give  them  a  trial.  But  it's  not  what  I  call 
properly  organized  yet." 

The  slaves  were  now  with  low  obeisances 


144  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

inviting  them  to  seat  themselves  on  the  divan 
which  lined  part  of  the  hall. 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  professor,  as  he  rose  from 
his  cushion,  cracking  audibly.  "  So  we  are  to 
have  our  coffee  and  what  not  over  there — hey? 
Well,  my  boy,  I  shan't  be  sorry,  I  confess,  to 
have  something  to  lean  my  back  against,  and 
a  cigar,  a  mild  cigar,  will — ah — aid  digestion. 
You  do  smoke  here  ?  " 

"Smoke?"  said  Horace.  "Why,  of 
course.  All  over  the  place.  Here !  "  he  said, 
clapping  his  hands,  which  brought  an  obse- 
quious slave  instantly  to  his  side.  "  Just  bring 
coffee  and  cigars,  will  you?" 

The  slave  rolled  his  brandy-ball  eyes  in 
obvious  perplexity. 

"  Coffee !  "  said  Horace.  "  You  must  know 
what  coffee  is.  And  cigarettes.  Well,  chi- 
bouks, then — '  hubble-bubbles  ' — if  that's  what 
you  call  them." 

But  the  slave  clearly  did  not  understand, 
and  it  suddenly  struck  Horace  that,  since  to- 
bacco and  coffee  were  not  introduced,  even  into 
the  East,  till  long  after  the  Jinnee's  time,  he, 
as  the  founder  of  the  feast,  would  naturally 
be  unaware  how  indispensable  they  had  become 
at  the  present  day. 

"  I'm  really  awfully  sorry,"  he  said,  "  but 


"PERSICOS  ODI,   PUER,  APPARATUS"     145 

they  don't  seem  to  have  provided  any.  I  shall 
speak  to  the  manager  about  it.  And  unfor- 
tunately I  don't  know  where  my  own  cigars 
are." 

"  It's  of  no  consequence,"  said  the  profess- 
or, with  the  sort  of  stoicism  that  minds  very 
much.  "  I  am  a  moderate  smoker  at  best,  and 
Turkish  coffee,  though  delicious,  is  apt  to  keep 
me  awake.  But  if  you  could  let  me  have  a 
look  at  that  brass  bottle  you  got  at  poor  Colling- 
ham's  sale,  I  should  be  obliged  to  you." 

Horace  had  no  idea  where  it  was  then,  nor 
could  he,  until  the  professor  came  to  the  rescue 
with  a  few  words  of  Arabic,  manage  to  make 
the  slaves  comprehend  what  he  wished  them  to 
find.  At  length,  however,  two  of  them  ap- 
peared, bearing  the  brass  bottle  with  every 
sign  of  awe,  and  depositing  it  at  Ventimore's 
feet. 

Professor  Futvoye,  after  wiping  and  adjust- 
ing his  glasses,  proceeded  to  examine  the  vessel. 
"  It  certainly  is  a  most  unusual  type  of  brass- 
ware,"  he  said,  "  as  unique  in  its  way  as  the 
silver  ewer  and  basin,  and,  as  you  thought, 
there  does  seem  to  be  something  resembling  an 
inscription  on  the  cap,  though  in  this  dim  light 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  be  sure." 

While  he  was  poring  over  it,  Horace  seated 


146  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

himself  on  the  divan  by  Sylvia's  side,  hoping 
for  one  of  the  whispered  conversations  per- 
mitted to  affianced  lovers;  he  had  pulled 
through  the  banquet  somehow,  and,  on  the 
whole,  he  felt  thankful  things  had  not  gone  off 
worse;  the  noiseless  and  uncanny  attendants, 
whom  he  did  not  know  whether  to  regard  as 
Efreets,  or  demons,  or  simply  illusions,  but 
whose  services  he  had  no  wish  to  retain,  had 
all  withdrawn.  Mrs.  Futvoye  was  peacefully 
slumbering,  and  her  husband  was  in  a  better 
humour  than  he  had  been  all  the  evening. 

Suddenly  from  behind  the  hangings  of  one 
of  the  archways  came  strange  discordant 
sounds,  barbaric  j  anglings  and  thumpings, 
varied  by  yowls  as  of  impassioned  cats. 

Sylvia  drew  involuntarily  closer  to  Horace; 
her  mother  woke  with  a  start,  and  the  professor 
looked  up  from  the  brass  bottle  with  returning 
irritation. 

"What's  this?  What's  this?"  he  de- 
manded. "  Some  fresh  surprise  in  store  for 
us?" 

It  was  quite  as  much  of  a  surprise  for  Hor- 
ace, but  he  was  spared  the  humiliation  of  own- 
ing it  by  the  entrance  of  some  half  dozen 
dusky  musicians  swathed  in  white,  and  carrying 
various  strangely  fashioned  instruments,  with 


"PERS1C0S  ODI,  PUER.   APPARATUS"     147 

■which  they  squatted  down  in  a  semi-circle  by 
the  opposite  wall,  and  began  to  twang  and 
drub  and  squall  with  the  complacent  cacoph- 
ony of  an  Eastern  orchestra.  Clearly  Fak- 
rash  was  determined  that  nothing  should  be 
wanting  to  make  the  entertainment  a  complete 
success. 

"  What  a  very  extraordinary  noise !  "  said 
Mrs.  Futvoye.  "  Surely  they  can't  mean  it 
for  music? " 

"  Yes,  they  do,"  said  Horace ;  "  it — it's 
really  more  harmonious  than  it  sounds — you 
have  to  get  accustomed  to  the — er — notation. 
When  you  do  it's  rather  soothing  than  other- 
wise." 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  the  poor  lady.  "  And  do 
they  come  from  the  stores,  too? " 

"  No,"  said  Horace,  with  a  fine  assumption 
of  candour.  "  They  don't ;  they  come  from — 
the  Arab  encampment  at  Earl's  Court;  parties 
and  fetes  attended,  you  know.  But  they  play 
here  for  nothing,  they — they  want  to  get  their 
name  known,  you  see,  very  deserving  and  re- 
spectable set  of  fellows." 

"  My  dear  Horace,"  remarked  Mrs.  Fut- 
voye, "if  they  expect  to  get  engagements  for 
parties  and  so  on,  they  really  ought  to  try  and 
learn  a  tune  of  some  sort." 


148  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  I  understand,  Horace,"  whispered  Syl- 
via. "  It's  very  naughty  of  you  to  have  gone  to 
all  this  trouble  and  expense  (for  of  course  it 
has  cost  you  a  lot)  just  to  please  us;  but,  what- 
ever dad  may  say,  I  love  you  all  the  better  for 
doing  it." 

And  her  hand  stole  softly  into  his,  and  he 
felt  that  he  could  forgive  Fakrash  everything 
— even  the  orchestra. 

But  there  was  something  unpleasantly  spec- 
tral about  their  shadowy  forms,  which  showed 
in  grotesquely  hazy  and  bulging  shapes  in  the 
uncertain  light.  Some  of  them  wore  immense 
and  curious  white  head-dresses,  which  gave 
them  the  appearance  of  poulticed  thumbs,  and 
they  all  went  on  scraping  and  twiddling  and 
caterwauling,  with  a  doleful  monotony  that 
Horace  felt  must  be  grating  on  his  guests* 
nerves,  as  it  certainly  was  on  his  own. 

He  did  not  know  how  to  get  rid  of  them, 
but  he  sketched  a  kind  of  gesture  in  the  air, 
intended  to  intimate  that,  while  their  efforts 
had  afforded  the  keenest  pleasure  to  the  com- 
pany generally,  they  were  unwilling  to  monopo- 
lize them  any  longer,  and  the  artists  were  at 
liberty  to  retire. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  art  more  liable  to  mis- 
construction than  pantomime;  certainly  Venti- 


"PERSICOS  ODI,   PUER,   APPARATUS"     149 

more's  efforts  in  this  direction  were  misunder- 
stood, for  the  music  became  wilder,  louder, 
more  aggressively  and  abominably  out  of  tune, 
and  then  a  worse  thing  happened. 

For  the  curtains  separated,  and,  heralded 
by  sharp  yelps  from  the  performers,  a  female 
figure  floated  into  the  hall  and  began  to  dance 
with  a  slow  and  sinuous  grace. 

Her  beauty,  though  of  a  pronounced  Ori- 
ental type,  was  unmistakable,  even  in  the  sub- 
dued light  which  fell  on  her;  her  diaphanous 
robe  indicated  a  faultless  form;  her  dark  tresses 
were  braided  with  sequins;  she  had  the  long, 
lustrous  eyes,  the  dusky  cheeks  artificially 
whitened,  and  the  fixed  scarlet  smile  of  the 
Eastern  dancing  girl  of  all  time. 

And  she  paced  the  floor  with  her  twinkling 
feet,  writhing  and  undulating  like  some  beauti- 
ful cobra,  while  the  players  worked  themselves 
up  to  yet  higher  and  higher  stages  of  frenzy. 

Ventimore,  as  he  sat  there  looking  help- 
lessly on,  felt  a  return  of  his  resentment  against 
the  Jinnee.  It  was  really  too  bad  of  him;  he 
ought,  at  his  age,  to  have  known  better. 

Not  that  there  was  anything  objectionable 
in  the  performance  itself,  but  still  it  was  not 
the  kind  of  entertainment  for  such  an  occasion. 
Horace  wished  now  he  had  mentioned  to  Fak- 


150  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

rash  who  the  guests  were  whom  he  expected, 
and  then  perhaps  even  the  Jinnee  would  have 
exercised  more  tact  in  his  arrangements. 

"  And  does  this  girl  come  from  Earl's 
Court?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Eutvoye,  who  was  now 
thoroughly  awake. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,"  said  Horace.  "  I  engaged 
her  at — at  Harrod's — the  Entertainment  Bu- 
reau. They  told  me  there  she  was  rather  good 
— struck  out  a  line  of  her  own,  don't  you  know. 
But  perfectly  correct;  she — she  only  does  this 
to  support  an  invalid  aunt." 

These  statements  were,  as  he  felt  even  in 
making  them,  not  only  gratuitous  but  utterly 
unconvincing,  but  he  had  arrived  at  that  con- 
dition in  which  a  man  discovers,  with  terror, 
the  unsuspected  amount  of  mendacity  latent  in 
his  system. 

"  I  should  have  thought  there  were  other 
ways  of  supporting  invalid  aunts,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Futvoye.  "  What  is  this  young  lady's 
name? " 

"  Tinkler,"  said  Horace,  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment.     "  Miss  Clementine  Tinkler." 

"  But  surely  she  is  a  foreigner?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  meant.  Tinkla — with  an 
'a,'  you  know.  I  believe  her  mother  was  of  Ara- 
bian extraction,  but  I  really  don't  know,"  ex- 


"PERSICOS  ODI,   PUER,  APPARATUS"     151 

plained  Horace,  conscious  that  Sylvia  had  with- 
drawn her  hand  from  his,  and  was  regarding 
him  with  covert  anxiety. 

"  I  really  must  put  a  stop  to  this !  "  he 
thought.  "  You're  getting  bored  by  all  this, 
darling!  "  he  said  aloud.  "  So  am  I.  I'll  tell 
them  to  go."  And  he  rose  and  held  out  his 
hand  as  a  sign  that  the  dance  should  cease. 

It  ceased  at  once;  but,  to  his  unspeakable 
horror,  the  dancer  crossed  the  floor  with  a  swift 
jingling  rush,  and  sank  in  a  gauzy  heap  at  his 
feet,  seizing  his  hand  in  both  hers  and  cover- 
ing it  with  kisses,  while  she  murmured  speeches 
in  some  tongue  unknown  to  him. 

"  Is  this  a  usual  feature  in  Mademoiselle 
Tinkla's  entertainments,  may  I  ask? "  said  Mrs. 
Futvoye,  bristling  with  not  unnatural  indigna- 
tion. 

"  I  really  don't  know,"  said  the  unhappy 
Horace.    "  I  can't  make  out  what  she's  saying." 

"  If  I  understand  her  rightly,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor, "  she  is  addressing  you  as  the  '  light  of 
her  eyes '  and  '  the  vital  spirit  of  her  heart.'  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Horace,  "  she's  quite  mistaken, 
you  know.  It — it's  the  emotional  artist  tem- 
perament ;  they  don't  mean  anything  by  it.  My 
— my  dear  young  lady,"  he  added,  "  you've 
danced  most  delightfully,  and  I'm  sure  we're  all 


152  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

most  deeply  indebted  to  you,  but  we  won't  de- 
tain you  any  longer.  Professor,"  lie  added,  as 
she  made  no  offer  to  rise,  "  will  you  kindly  ex- 
plain to  them  in  Arabic  that  I  should  be  obliged 
by  their  going  at  once  ?  " 

The  professor  said  a  few  words,  which  had 
the  desired  effect.  The  girl  gave  a  little  scream 
and  scudded  through  the  archway,  and  the  mu- 
sicians seized  their  instruments  and  scuttled 
after  her. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  said  Horace,  whose  even- 
ing seemed  to  him  to  have  been  spent  chiefly  in 
apologies.  "  It's  not  at  all  the  kind  of  enter- 
tainment one  would  expect  from  a  place  like 
Whiteley's." 

"  By  no  means,"  agreed  the  professor ;  "  but 
I  understood  you  to  say  Mademoiselle  Tinkla 
was  recommended  to  you  by  Harrod's?  " 

"  Very  likely,  sir,"  said  Horace.  "  But  that 
doesn't  affect  the  case;  I  shouldn't  expect  it 
from  them." 

"  Probably  they  don't  know  how  shamelessly 
that  young  person  conducts  herself,"  said  Mrs. 
Futvoye,  "  and  I  think  it  only  right  that  they 
should  be  told." 

"  I  shall  complain,  of  course,"  said  Horace. 
u  I  shall  put  it  very  strongly." 

"  A  protest  would  have  more  weight  coming 


"PERSICOS  ODI,   PUER,   APPARATUS"     153 

from  a  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Futvoye,  "  and,  as 
a  shareholder  in  the  company,  I  shall  feel 
bound " 

"  Xo,  I  wouldn't,"  said  Horace ;  "  in  fact 
you  mustn't.  For,  now  I  come  to  think  of  it, 
she  didn't  come  from  Harrod's  after  all,  or 
Whiteley's  either." 

"  Then  perhaps  you  will  be  good  enough  to 
inform  us  where  she  did  come  from?  " 

"  I  would  if  I  knew,"  said  Horace,  "  but  I 
don't." 

"  What !  "  cried  the  professor  sharply,  "  do 
you  mean  to  say  you  can't  account  for  the  exist- 
ence of  a  dancing  girl  who — in  my  daughter's 
presence — kisses  your  hand  and  addresses  you 
by  endearing  epithets? " 

"  Oriental  metaphor,"  said  Horace.  "  She 
was  a  little  overstrung.  Of  course  if  I  had  any 
idea  she  would  make  such  a  scene  as  that — 
Sylvia !  "  he  broke  off,  "  you  don't  doubt  me  ?  " 

"  Ko,  Horace,"  said  Sylvia  simply.  "  I'm 
sure  you  must  have  some  explanation,  only  I 
do  think  it  would  be  better  if  you  gave  it." 

"  If  I  told  you  the  truth,"  said  Horace 
slowly,  "  you  would  none  of  you  believe  me." 

"  Then  you  admit,"  put  in  the  professor, 
"  that  hitherto  you  have  not  been  telling  the 
truth?" 


154  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  Not  as  invariably  as  I  could  have  wished," 
Horace  confessed. 

"  So  I  suspected.  Then,  unless  you  can 
bring  yourself  to  be  perfectly  candid,  you  can 
hardly  wonder  at  our  asking  you  to  consider 
your  engagement  as  broken  off." 

"Broken  off!"  echoed  Horace.  "Sylvia, 
you  won't  give  me  up?  You  know  I  wouldn't 
do  anything  unworthy  of  you!  " 

"  I'm  certain  that  you  can't  have  done  any- 
thing which  would  make  me  love  you  one  bit 
the  less  if  I  knew  it.  So  why  not  be  quite  open 
with  us? " 

"  Because,  darling,"  said  Horace,  "  I'm  in 
such  a  fix  that  it  would  only  make  matters 
worse." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  the  professor,  "  and, 
as  it  is  already  rather  late,  perhaps  you  will 
allow  one  of  your  numerous  retinue  to  call  a 
four-wheeler." 

Horace  clapped  his  hands,  but  no  one  an- 
swered the  summons,  and  he  could  not  find  any 
of  the  slaves  in  the  antechamber. 

"  I'm  afraid  all  the  servants  have  left,"  he 
explained,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  he  would  have 
added  that  they  were  all  obliged  to  return  to 
their  contractor  by  eleven — only  he  caught  the 
professor's  eye  and  decided  that  he  had  better 


"PERSICOS  ODI,   PUER,   APPARATUS"     155 

refrain.  "  If  you  will  wait  here,  I'll  go  out  and 
fetch  a  cab,"  he  added. 

"  There  is  no  occasion  to  trouble  you,"  said 
the  professor.  "  My  wife  and  daughter  have 
already  got  their  things  on,  and  we  will  walk 
until  we  find  a  cab.  Now,  Mr.  Ventirnore,  we 
will  bid  you  good-night — and  good-bye.  For, 
after  what  has  happened,  you  will,  I  trust,  have 
the  good  taste  to  discontinue  your  visits  and 
make  no  attempt  to  see  Sylvia  again." 

"  Upon  my  honour,"  protested  Horace,  "  I 
have  done  nothing  to  warrant  you  in  shutting 
your  doors  against  me!  " 

"  I  am  unable  to  agree  with  you.  I  have 
never  thoroughly  approved  of  your  engage- 
ment, because,  as  I  told  you  at  the  time,  I  sus- 
pected you  of  recklessness  in  money  matters. 
Even  in  accepting  your  invitation  to-night,  I 
warned  you,  as  you  may  remember,  not  to  make 
the  occasion  an  excuse  for  foolish  extravagance. 
I  come  here,  and  find  you  in  apartments  fur- 
nished and  decorated  (as  you  informed  us)  by 
yourself,  and  on  a  scale  which  would  be  prodigal 
in  a  millionaire.  You  have  a  suite  of  retainers 
which  (except  for  their  nationality  and  imper- 
fect discipline)  a  prince  might  envy.  You  pro- 
vide a  banquet  of — hem — delicacies  which  must 
have  cost  you  infinite  trouble  and  unlimited 
11 


156  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

expense — this  after  I  had  expressly  stipulated 
for  a  quiet  family  dinner!  Not  content  with 
that,  you  procure  for  our  diversion  Arab  music 
and  dancing  of  a — of  a  highly  recondite  char- 
acter. I  should  be  unworthy  the  name  of 
father,  sir,  if  I  were  to  intrust  my  only  daugh- 
ter's happiness  to  a  young  man  with  so  little 
common  sense,  so  little  self-restraint.  And  she 
will  understand  my  motives  and  obey  my 
wishes." 

"  You're  right,  professor,  according  to  your 
lights,"  admitted  Horace.  "  And  yet — con- 
found it  all,  you're  utterly  wrong,  too!  " 

"  Oh,  Horace !  "  cried  Sylvia,  "  if  you  had 
only  listened  to  dad,  and  not  gone  to  all  this 
foolish,  foolish  expense,  we  might  have  been 
so  happy!  " 

"  But  I  have  gone  to  no  expense :  all  this 
hasn't  cost  me  a  penny!  " 

"Ah,  there  is  some  mystery!  Horace,  if 
you  love  me,  you  will  explain — here,  now — 
before  it's  too  late !  " 

"  My  darling,"  groaned  Horace,  "  I  would, 
like  a  shot,  if  I  thought  it  would  be  of  the  least 
use." 

"Hitherto,"  said  the  professor,  "you  can 
not  be  said  to  have  been  happy  in  your  explana- 
tions, and  I  should  advise  you  not  to  venture 


"PERSICOS  ODI,  PUER,   APPARATUS"     157 

on  any  more.  Good-night  once  more.  I  only 
wish  it  were  possible,  without  needless  irony, 
to  make  the  customary  acknowledgments  for  a 
pleasant  evening." 

Mrs.  Futvoye  had  already  hurried  her 
daughter  away,  and,  though  she  had  left  her 
husband  to  express  his  sentiments  unaided,  she 
made  it  sufficiently  clear  that  she  entirely 
agreed  with  them. 

Horace  stood  in  the  outer  hall  by  the 
fountain,  in  which  his  drowned  chrysanthemums 
were  still  floating,  and  gazed  in  stupefied  despair 
after  his  guests  as  they  went  down  the  path  to 
the  gate.  He  knew  only  too  well  that  they 
would  never  cross  his  threshold,  nor  he  theirs, 
again. 

Suddenly  he  came  to  himself  with  a  start. 
"I'll  try  it,"  he  cried.  "I  can't  and  won't 
stand  this!  "  And  he  rushed  after  them  bare- 
headed. 

"  Professor !  "  he  said  breathlessly,  as  he 
caught  him  up.  "  One  moment.  On  second 
thoughts  I  will  tell  you  my  secret,  if  you  will 
promise  me  a  patient  hearing." 

"  The  pavement  is  hardly  the  place  for  con- 
fidences," replied  the  professor,  "  and,  if  it 
were,  your  costume  is  calculated  to  attract  more 
remark  than  is  desirable.    My  wife  and  daugh- 


158  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

ter  have  gone  on;  if  you'll  permit  me,  I  will 
overtake  them.  I  shall  be  at  home  to-morrow 
morning,  should  you  wish  to  see  me." 

"No,  to-night,  to-night!"  urged  Horace. 
"  I  can't  sleep  in  that  infernal  place  with  this 
on  my  mind.  Put  Mrs.  Futvoye  and  Sylvia 
into  a  cab,  professor,  and  come  back.  It's  not 
late,  and  I  won't  keep  you  long,  but  for 
Heaven's  sake  let  me  tell  you  my  story  at 
once ! " 

Probably  the  professor  was  not  without 
some  curiosity  on  the  subject;  at  all  events  he 
yielded. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  "  go  into  the  house 
and  I  will  rejoin  you  presently.  Only  remem- 
ber," he  added,  "  that  I  shall  accept  no  state- 
ment without  the  fullest  proof.  Otherwise  you 
will  merely  be  wasting  your  time  and  mine." 

"  Proof!  "  thought  Horace  gloomily,  as  he 
returned  to  his  Arabian  halls.  "  The  only 
decent  proof  I  could  produce  would  be  old  Fak- 
rash,  and  he's  not  likely  to  turn  up  again, 
especially  now  I  want  him!  " 

A  little  later  the  professor  returned,  having 
found  a  cab  and  despatched  his  women  folk 
home.  "  Now,  young  man,"  he  said,  as  he  un- 
wound his  .wrapper  and  seated  himself  on  the 
divan  by  Horace's  side,  "  I  can  give  you  just 


"PERSICOS  ODI,   PUER,  APPARATUS"     159 

ten  minutes  to  tell  your  story  in,  so  let  me  beg 
you  to  make  it  as  brief  and  as  comprehensible 
as  you  can." 

It  was  not  exactly  an  encouraging  invita- 
tion in  the  circumstances,  but  Horace  took  his 
courage  in  both  hands  and  told  him  everything, 
just  as  it  had  happened. 

"  And  that's  your  story? "  said  the  pro- 
fessor, after  listening  to  the  narrative  with  the 
utmost  attention,  when  Horace  came  to  the  end. 

"  That's  my  story,  sir,"  said  Horace,  "  and 
I  hope  it  has  altered  your  opinion  of  me." 

"  It  has,"  replied  the  professor,  in  an  altered 
tone.  "  It  has,  indeed.  Yours  is  a  sad  case — 
a  very  sad  case." 

"  It's  rather  awkward,  isn't  it?  But  I  don't 
mind  so  long  as  you  understand.  And  you'll 
tell  Sylvia — as  much  as  you  thinl*  proper?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  must  tell  Sylvia." 

"  And  I  may  go  on  seeing  her  as  usual?  " 

"  Well — will  you  be  guided  by  my  advice — 
the  advice  of  one  who  has  lived  more  than 
double  your  years?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Horace. 

"  Then,  if  I  were  you,  I  should  go  away  at 
once,  for  a  complete  change  of  air  and  scene." 

"  That's  impossible,  sir.  You  forget  my 
work!  " 


160  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  Never  mind  your  work,  my  boy — leave  it 
for  a  while;  try  a  sea  voyage,  go  round  the 
world,  get  quite  away  from  these  associations." 

"  But  I  might  come  across  the  Jinnee 
again,"  objected  Horace.  "  He's  travelling,  as 
I  told  you." 

"  Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure.  Still,  I  should  go 
away.  Consult  any  doctor  and  he'll  tell  you 
the  same  thing." 

"  Consult  any —  Good  God!  "  cried  Hor- 
ace, "  I  see  what  it  is — you  think  I'm  mad !  " 

"  ~No,  no,  my  dear  boy,"  said  the  professor 
soothingly,  "  not  mad — nothing  of  the  sort — 
perhaps  your  mental  equilibrium  is  just  a  trifle 
— it's  quite  intelligible.  You  see,  the  sudden 
turn  in  your  professional  prospects,  coupled 
with  your  engagement  to  Sylvia — I've  known 
stronger  minds  than  yours  thrown  off  their 
balance — temporarily,  of  course,  quite  tempo- 
rarily— by  less  than  that." 

"  You  believe  I  am  suffering  from  delu- 
sions? " 

"  I  don't  say  that.  I  think  you  may  see 
ordinary  things  in  a  distorted  light." 

"  Anyhow,  you  don't  believe  there  really 
was  a  Jinnee  inside  that  bottle  ? " 

"  Remember,  you  yourself  assured  me  at 
the  time  you  opened  it  that  you  found  nothing 


"PERSICOS  ODI,  PUER,  APPARATUS"     161 

whatever  inside  it.  Isn't  it  more  credible  that 
you  were  right  then  than  that  you  should  be 
right  now?  " 

"  "Well,"  said  Horace,  "  you  saw  all  those 
black  slaves,  you  ate,  or  tried  to  eat,  that  un- 
utterably beastly  banquet,  you  heard  that  music 
— and  then  there  was  the  dancing  girl.  And 
this  very  hall  we're  in,  the  robe  I've  got  on — 
are  they  delusions?  Because,  if  they  are,  I'm 
afraid  you  will  have  to  admit  that  you're  mad, 
too." 

"  Ingeniously  put,"  said  the  professor.  "  I 
fear  it  is  unwise  to  argue  with  you.  Still  I  will 
venture  to  assert  that  a  strong  imagination  like 
yours,  overheated  and  saturated  with  Oriental 
ideas — to  which  I  fear  I  may  have  contributed 
— is  not  incapable  of  unconsciously  assisting  in 
its  own  deception.  In  other  words,  I  think  that 
you  may  have  provided  all  this  yourself  from 
various  quarters  without  any  clear  recollection 
of  the  fact." 

"  That's  very  scientific  and  satisfactory  as 
far  as  it  goes,  my  dear  professor,"  said  Horace, 
"  but  there's  one  piece  of  evidence  which  may 
upset  your  theory,  and  that's  this  brass  bottle." 

"  If  your  reasoning  powers  were  in  their 
normal  condition,"  said  the  professor  compas- 
sionately, "  you  would  see  that  the  mere  pro- 


162  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

duction  of  an  empty  bottle  can  be  no  proof  of 
what  it  contained — or,  for  that  matter,  that 
it  ever  contained  anything  at  all." 

"  Oh,  I  see  that"  said  Horace;  "  but  this 
bottle  has  a  stopper  with  what  you  yourself  ad- 
mit to  be  an  inscription  of  some  sort.  Suppose 
that  inscription  confirms  my  story — what  then? 
All  I  ask  you  to  do  is  to  make  it  out  for  your- 
self before  you  decide  that  I'm  either  a  liar  or 
a  lunatic." 

"  I  warn  you,"  said  the  professor,  "  that  if 
you  are  trusting  to  my  being  unable  to  de- 
cipher the  inscription  you  are  deceiving  your- 
self. You  represent  that  this  bottle  belongs 
to  the  period  of  Solomon — that  is,  about  a  thou- 
sand years  before  Christ.  Probably  you  are  not 
aware  that  the  earliest  specimens  of  Oriental 
metal  work  in  existence  are  not  older  than  the 
tenth  century  of  our  era.  But,  granting  that  it 
is  as  old  as  you  allege,  I  shall  certainly  be  able 
to  read  any  inscription  there  may  be  on  it.  I 
have  made  out  clay  tablets  in  Cuneiform  which 
were  certainly  written  a  thousand  years  before 
Solomon's  time." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  Horace.  "  I'm 
as  certain  as  I  can  be  that  whatever  is  written 
on  that  lid,  whether  it's  Phoenician  or  Cunei- 
form, or  anything  else,  must  have  some  refer- 


"PERSICOS  ODI,  PUER,   APPARATUS"     163 

ence  to  a  Jinnee  confined  in  the  bottle,  or  at 
least  bear  the  seal  of  Solomon.  But  there  the 
thing  is — examine  it  for  yourself." 

"  Kot  now,"  said  the  professor.  "  It's  too 
late,  and  the  light  here  is  not  strong  enough. 
But  I  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I'll  take  this 
stopper  thing  home  with  me  and  examine  it 
carefully  to-morrow — on  one  condition." 

"  You  have  only  to  name  it,"  said  Horace. 

"  My  condition  is  that  if  I,  and  one  or  two 
other  Orientalists  to  whom  I  may  submit  it, 
agree  with  me  that  there  is  no  real  inscription 
at  all,  or,  if  any,  that  a  date  and  meaning  must 
be  assigned  to  it  totally  inconsistent  with  your 
story,  you  will  accept  our  finding  and  acknowl- 
edge that  you  have  been  under  a  delusion,  and 
dismiss  the  whole  affair  from  your  mind." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  agreeing  to  that"  said 
Horace,  "  particularly  as  it's  my  only  chance." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  the  professor,  as 
he  removed  the  metal  cap  and  put  it  in  his 
pocket,  "  you  may  depend  upon  hearing  from 
me  in  a  day  or  two.  Meantime,  my  boy,"  he 
continued,  almost  affectionately,  "  why  not  try 
a  short  bicycle  tour  somewhere — hey?  You're 
a  cyclist,  I  know.  Anything  but  allow  your- 
self to  dwell  on  Oriental  subjects." 

"  It's  not  so  easy  to  avoid  dwelling  on  them 


164  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

as  you  think,"  said  Horace,  with  rather  a 
dreary  laugh.  "  And  I  fancy,  professor,  that — 
whether  you  like  it  or  not — you'll  have  to  be- 
lieve in  that  Jinnee  of  mine  sooner  or  later." 

"  I  can  scarcely  conceive,"  replied  the  pro- 
fessor, who  was  by  this  time  at  the  outer  door, 
"  any  degree  of  evidence  which  could  succeed 
in  convincing  me  that  your  brass  bottle  had  ever 
contained  an  Arabian  Jinnee.  However,  I  shall 
endeavour  to  preserve  an  open  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject.   Good  evening  to  you." 

As  soon  as  he  was  alone,  Horace  paced  up 
and  down  his  deserted  halls  in  a  state  of  sim- 
mering rage  as  he  thought  how  eagerly  he  had 
looked  forward  to  his  little  dinner  party,  how 
intimate  and  delightful  it  might  have  been, 
and  what  a  monstrous  and  prolonged  nightmare 
it  had  actually  proved.  And  at  the  end  of  it 
there  he  was — in  a  fantastic  impossible  dwell- 
ing, deserted  by  every  one,  his  chances  of  setting 
himself  right  with  Sylvia  hanging  on  the  slen- 
derest thread,  unknown  difficulties  and  compli- 
cations threatening  him  from  every  side! 

He  owed  all  this  to  Fakrash.  Yes,  that  in- 
corrigibly grateful  Jinnee,  with  his  antiquated 
notions  and  his  high-flown  professions,  had  con- 
trived to  ruin  him  more  disastrously  than  if  he 
had  been  his  bitterest  foe.    Ah!  if  he  could  be 


"PERSICOS  ODI,   PUER,  APPARATUS"     165 

face  to  face  with  him  once  more,  if  only  for 
five  minutes,  he  would  be  restrained  by  no  false 
delicacy,  he  would  tell  him  fairly  and  plainly 
what  a  meddling,  blundering  old  fool  he  was. 
But  Fakrash  had  taken  his  flight  forever;  there 
were  no  means  of  calling  him  back,  nothing 
to  be  done  now  but  go  to  bed — and  sleep  if  he 
could ! 

Exasperated  by  the  sense  of  his  utter  help- 
lessness, Yentimore  went  to  the  arch  which  led 
to  his  bedchamber  and  drew  the  curtain  back 
with  a  furious  pull.  And  just  within  the  arch- 
way, standing  erect  with  folded  arms  and  the 
smile  of  fatuous  benignity  which  Yentimore  was 
beginning  to  know  and  dread,  was  the  form  of 
Fakrash-el-Aamash,  the  Jinnee. 


CHAPTEK  X 

NO    PLACE    LIKE    HOME 

"May  thy  head  long  survive!"  said  Fak- 
rash,  by  way  of  salutation,  as  he  stepped 
through  the  archway. 

"  You're  very  good,"  said  Horace,  whose 
anger  had  almost  evaporated  in  the  relief  of 
the  Jinnee's  unexpected  return.  "  But  I  don't 
think  any  head  can  survive  this  sort  of  thing 
long." 

"  Art  thou  content  with  this  dwelling  I  have 
provided  for  thee  ?  "  inquired  the  Jinnee,  glanc- 
ing around  the  stately  hall  with  perceptible 
complacency. 

It  would  have  been  positively  brutal  to  say 
how  very  far  from  contented  he  felt,  so  Horace 
could  only  mumble  that  he  had  never  been 
lodged  like  that  before  in  all  his  life. 

"  It  is  far  below  thy  deserts,"  Fakrash  ob- 
served graciously.  "  And  were  thy  friends 
amazed  at  the  manner  of  their  entertainment?  " 

"  They  were,"  said  Horace. 
166 


NO  PLACE  LIKE  HOME  167 

"  A  sure  method  of  preserving  friends  is 
to  feast  them  with  liberality,"  remarked  the 
Jinnee. 

This  was  rather  more  than  Horace's  temper 
could  stand.  "  You  were  kind  enough  to  pro- 
vide my  friends  with  such  a  feast,"  he  said, 
"  that  they'll  never  come  here  again." 

"  How  so?  Were  not  the  meats  choice  and 
abounding  in  fatness?  Was  not  the  wine  sweet, 
and  the  sherbet  like  unto  perfumed  snow?  " 

"  Oh,  everything  was — er — as  nice  as  pos- 
sible," said  Horace.  "  Couldn't  have  been 
better!  " 

"  Yet  thou  sayest  that  thy  friends  will  re- 
turn no  more.     For  what  reason?" 

"  Well,  you  see,"  explained  Horace  reluc- 
tantly, "  there's  such  a  thing  as  doing  people 
too  well.  I  mean,  it  isn't  everybody  that  appre- 
ciates Arabian  cooking.  But  they  might  have 
stood  that;  it  was  the  dancing  girl  that  did  for 
me." 

"  I  commanded  that  a  houri,  lovelier  than 
the  full  moon  and  graceful  as  a  young  gazelle, 
should  appear  for  the  delight  of  thy  guests." 

"  Well,"  said  Horace  gloomily,  "  she  came." 

"  Acquaint  me  with  that  which  hath  oc- 
curred, for  I  perceive  plainly  that  something 
hath  fallen  out  contrary  to  thy  desires." 


168  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  "Well,"  said  Horace  again,  "  if  it  had  been 
a  bachelor  party  there  would  have  been  no 
harm  in  the  houri;  but,  as  it  happened,  two  of 
my  guests  were  ladies,  and  they — well,  they  not 
unnaturally  put  a  wrong  construction  on  it  all." 

"  Verily,"  exclaimed  the  Jinnee,  "  thy 
words  are  totally  incomprehensible  to  me !  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  custom  may  be  in 
Arabia,"  said  Horace,  "  but  with  us  it  is  not 
usual  for  a  man  to  engage  a  houri  to  dance  after 
dinner  to  amuse  the  lady  he  is  proposing  to 
marry.  It's  the  kind  of  attention  she'd  be  most 
unlikely  to  appreciate." 

"  Then  was  one  of  thy  guests  the  damsel 
whom  thou  art  seeking  to  marry?  " 

"  She  was,"  said  Horace,  "  and  the  other 
two  were  her  father  and  mother.  From  which 
you  may  imagine  that  it  was  not  altogether 
agreeable  for  me  when  your  gazelle  threw  her- 
self at  my  feet  and  hugged  my  knees  and  de- 
clared that  I  was  the  light  of  her  eyes.  Of 
course  it  all  meant  nothing — it's  probably  the 
conventional  behaviour  for  a  gazelle — and  I'm 
not  reflecting  upon  her  in  the  least.  But,  in 
the  circumstances,  it  was  compromising." 

"  I  thought,"  said  Fakrash,  "  that  thou  as- 
suredst  me  that  thou  wast  not  contracted  to 
any  damsel?  " 


NO  PLACE   LIKE  HOME  IQQ 

"  I  think  I  only  said  that  there  was  no  one 
whom  I  would  trouble  you  to  procure  as  a  wife 
for  me,"  replied  Horace.  "  I  certainly  was  en- 
gaged— though,  after  this  evening,  my  engage- 
ment is  at  an  end — unless  .  .  .  that  reminds 
me,  do  you  happen  to  know  whether  there  really 
was  an  inscription  on  the  seal  of  your  bottle, 
and  what  it  said  ?  " 

"  I  know  naught  of  any  inscription,"  said 
the  Jinnee.  "  Bring  me  the  seal,  that  I  may 
see  it." 

"  I  haven't  got  it  by  me  at  this  moment," 
said  Horace.  "  I  lent  it  to  my  friend — the 
father  of  this  young  lady  I  told  you  of.  You 
see,  Mr.  Fakrash,  you  got  me  into — I  mean  I 
was  in  such  a  hole  over  this  affair  that  I  was 
obliged  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  to  him. 
And  he  wouldn't  believe  it,  so  it  struck  me 
that  there  might  be  an  inscription  of  some  sort 
on  the  seal  saying  who  you  were,  and  why  Solo- 
mon had  you  confined  in  the  bottle.  Then  the 
professor  would  be  obliged  to  admit  that  there'3 
something  in  my  story." 

"  Truly  I  wonder  at  thee  and  at  the  small- 
ness  of  thy  penetration,"  the  Jinnee  com- 
mented, "  for  if  there  were  indeed  any  writing 
upon  this  seal  it  is  not  possible  that  one  of  thy 
race  should  be  able  to  decipher  it." 


170  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Horace. 
"Professor  Futvoye  is  an  Oriental  scholar;  he 
can  make  out  any  inscription,  no  matter  how 
many  thousands  of  years  old  it  may  be.  If  any- 
thing's  there,  he'll  decipher  it.  The  question  is 
whether  anything  is  there." 

The  effect  of  this  speech  on  Fakrash  was  as 
unexpected  as  it  was  inexplicable;  the  Jinnee's 
features,  usually  so  mild,  began  to  work  con- 
vulsively until  they  became  terrible  to  look  at, 
and  suddenly,  with  a  fierce  howl,  he  shot  up  to 
nearly  double  his  ordinary  stature. 

"  O  thou  of  little  sense  and  breeding!  "  he 
cried,  in  a  loud  voice.  "  How  earnest  thou  to 
deliver  the  bottle  in  which  I  was  confined  into 
the  hands  of  this  learned  man?  " 

Ventimore,  startled  as  he  was,  did  not  lose 
his  self-possession.  "  My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  "  I 
did  not  suppose  you  could  have  any  further 
use  for  it.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  didn't 
give  Professor  Futvoye  the  bottle — which  is 
over  there  in  the  corner — but  merely  the 
stopper.  I  wish  you  wouldn't  tower  over  me 
like  that — it  gives  me  a  crick  in  the  neck  to 
talk  to  you.  Why  on  earth  should  you  make 
such  a  fuss  about  my  lending  the  seal — what 
possible  difference  can  it  make  to  you  even  if 
it  does  confirm  my  story?    And  it's  of  immense 


NO  PLACE  LIKE  HOME  171 

importance  to  me  that  the  professor  should  be- 
lieve I  told  the  truth!  " 

"  I  spoke  in  haste,"  said  the  Jinnee,  slowly 
resuming  his  normal  size,  and  looking  slightly 
ashamed  of  his  recent  outburst  as  well  as  un- 
commonly foolish.  "  The  bottle  truly  is  of  no 
value,  and  as  for  the  stopper,  since  it  is  but 
lent  it  is  no  great  matter.  If  there  be  any 
legend  upon  the  seal,  perchance  this  learned 
man  of  whom  thou  speakest  will  by  this  time 
have  deciphered  it? " 

"  No,"  said  Horace,  "  he  won't  tackle  it  till 
to-morrow.  And  it's  as  likely  as  not  that  when 
he  does  he  won't  find  any  reference  to  you,  and 
I  shall  be  up  a  taller  tree  than  ever." 

"  Art  thou  so  desirous  that  he  should  receive 
proof  that  thy  story  is  true?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  I  am!  Haven't  I  been 
saying  so  all  this  time? " 

"  Who  can  satisfy  him  so  surely  as  I?  " 

"  You !  "  cried  Horace.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
say  you  really  would?  Mr.  Fakrash,  you  are 
an  old  brick!    That  would  be  the  very  thing!  " 

"  There  is  naught,"  said  the  Jinnee,  smiling 
indulgently,  "  that  I  would  not  do  to  promote 
thy  welfare,  for  thou  hast  rendered  me  ines- 
timable service.  Acquaint  me,  therefore,  with 
the  abode  of  this  sage,  and  I  will  present  my- 
12 


172  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

self  before  him,  and  if  haply  he  should  find  no 
inscription  upon  the  seal,  or  its  purport  should 
be  hidden  from  him,  then  will  I  convince 
him  that  thou  hast  spoken  the  truth,  and  no 
He." 

Horace  very  willingly  gave  him  the  profess- 
or's address.  "  Only  don't  drop  in  on  him  to- 
night, you  know,"  he  thought  it  prudent  to 
add,  "  or  you  might  startle  him.  Call  any  time 
after  breakfast  to-morrow,  and  you'll  find  him 
in." 

"  To-night,"  said  Fakrash,  "  I  return  to  pur- 
sue my  search  after  Suleyman — on  whom  be 
peace!    For  not  yet  have  I  found  him." 

"  If  you  will  try  to  do  so  many  things  at 
once,"  said  Horace,  "  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
expect  much  results." 

"  At  Nineveh  they  knew  him  not,  for 
where  I  left  a  city  I  found  but  a  heap  of  ruins, 
tenanted  by  owls  and  bats." 

"  '  They  say  the  lion  and  the  lizard  keep 
the  courts  where — '  "  murmured  Horace,  half 
to  himself.  "  I  was  afraid  you  might  be  dis- 
appointed with  Nineveh  myself.  Why  not 
run  over  to  Sheba?  You  might  hear  of  him 
there." 

"  Seba  of  El  -  Yemen,  the  country  of 
Bilkees,  the  queen  beloved  of  Suleyman,"  said 


NO  PLACE  LIKE  HOME  173 

the  Jinnee.  "  It  is  an  excellent  suggestion, 
and  I  will  follow  it  without  delay." 

"  But  you  won't  forget  to  look  in  on  Pro- 
fessor Futvoye  to-morrow,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Assuredly  I  will  not.  And  now,  ere  I 
depart,  tell  me  if  there  be  any  other  service 
I  may  render  thee." 

Horace  hesitated.  "  There  is  just  one,"  he 
said,  "  only  I'm  afraid  you'll  be  offended  if  I 
mention  it." 

"  On  the  head  and  the  eye  be  thy  com- 
mands," said  the  Jinnee;  "for  whatsoever  thou 
desirest  shall  be  accomplished,  provided  that  it 
lie  within  my  power  to  perform  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Horace,  "  if  you're  sure  you 
don't  mind,  I'll  tell  you.  You've  transformed 
this  house  into  a  wonderful  place,  more  like  the 
Alhambra — I  don't  mean  the  one  in  Leicester 
Square — than  a  London  lodging-house.  But 
then  I  am  only  a  lodger  here,  and  the  people 
the  house  belongs  to — excellent  people,  in  their 
way — would  very  much  rather  have  the  house 
as  it  was.  They  have  a  sort  of  idea  that  they 
won't  be  able  to  let  these  rooms  as  easily  as  the 
others." 

"  Base  and  sordid  dogs !  "  said  the  Jinnee, 
with  contempt. 

"  Possibly,"    said    Horace,    "  it's    narrow- 


174  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

minded  of  them,  but  that's  the  way  they  look 
at  it.  They've  actually  left  rather  than  stay 
here.     And  it's  their  house — not  mine !  " 

"  If  they  abandon  this  dwelling,  thou  wilt 
remain  in  the  more  secure  possession." 

"  Oh,  shall  I,  though?  They'll  go  to  law 
and  have  me  turned  out,  and  I  shall  have  to  pay 
ruinous  damages  into  the  bargain.  So  you  see, 
what  you  intended  as  a  kindness  will  only  bring 
me  bad  luck." 

"  Come — without  more  words — to  the  state- 
ment of  thy  request,"  said  Fakrash,  "  for  I  am 
in  haste." 

"  All  I  want  you  to  do,"  replied  Horace,  in 
some  anxiety  as  to  what  the  effect  of  his  request 
would  be,  "  is  to  put  everything  here  back  to 
what  it  was  before.  It  won't  take  you  a  min- 
ute." 

"  Of  a  truth,"  exclaimed  Fakrash,  "  to  be- 
stow a  favour  upon  thee  is  but  a  thankless 
undertaking,  for  not  once,  but  twice,  hast  thou 
rejected  my  benefits;  and  now,  behold,  I  am 
at  a  loss  to  devise  means  to  gratify  thee !  " 

"  I  know  I've  abused  your  good  nature," 
said  Horace,  "  but  if  you'll  only  do  this,  and 
then  convince  the  professor  that  my  story  is 
true,  I  shall  be  more  than  satisfied.  I'll  never 
ask  another  favour  of  you." 


NO  PLACE  LIKE  HOME  175 

"  My  benevolence  toward  thee  hath  no 
bounds,  as  thou  shalt  see,  and  I  can  deny  thee 
nothing,  for  truly  thou  art  a  worthy  and  tem- 
perate young  man.  Farewell,  then,  and  be  it 
according  to  thy  desire." 

He  raised  his  arms  above  his  head,  and  shot 
up  like  a  rocket  toward  the  lofty  dome,  which 
split  asunder  to  let  him  pass.  Horace,  as  he 
gazed  after  him,  had  a  momentary  glimpse  of 
deep  blue  sky,  with  a  star  or  two  that  seemed 
to  be  hurrying  through  the  transparent  opal 
scud,  before  the  roof  closed  in  once  more. 

Then  came  a  low  rumbling  sound,  with  a 
shock  like  a  mild  earthquake ;  the  slender  pillars 
swayed  under  their  horse-shoe  arches;  the  big 
hanging  lanterns  went  out;  the  walls  narrowed, 
and  the  floor  heaved  and  rose — till  Yentimore 
found  himself  up  in  his  own  familiar  sitting- 
room  once  more,  in  the  dark.  Outside  he  could 
see  the  great  square  still  shrouded  in  gray  haze ; 
the  street  lamps  were  flickering  in  the  wind; 
a  belated  reveller  was  enlivening  his  homeward 
journey  by  rattling  his  stick  against  the  railings 
as  he  passed.  Inside  the  room  everything  was 
exactly  as  before,  and  Horace  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  believe  that  a  few  minutes  earlier  he 
had  been  standing  on  that  same  site,  but  twenty 
feet  or  so  below  his  present  level,  in  a  spacious 


176  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

blue-tiled  hall  with  a  domed  ceiling  and  gaudy 
pillared  arches. 

But  he  was  very  far  from  regretting  his 
short-lived  splendour;  he  burned  with  shame 
and  resentment  whenever  he  thought  of  that 
nightmare  banquet,  which  was  so  unlike  the 
quiet,  unpretentious  little  dinner  he  had  looked 
forward  to. 

However,  it  was  over  now,  and  it  was  useless 
to  worry  himself  about  what  could  not  be 
helped.  Besides,  fortunately,  there  was  no 
great  harm  done;  the  Jinnee  had  been  brought 
to  see  his  mistake,  and,  to  do  him  justice,  had 
shown  himself  willing  enough  to  put  it  right. 
He  had  promised  to  go  and  see  the  professor 
next  day,  and  the  result  of  the  interview  could 
not  fail  to  be  satisfactory.  And  after  this, 
Yentimore  thought,  Fakrash  would  have  the 
sense  and  good  feeling  not  to  interfere  in  his 
affairs  again. 

Meanwhile,  he  could  sleep  now  with  a  mind 
free  from  his  worst  anxieties,  and  he  went  to 
his  room  in  a  spirit  of  intense  thankfulness  that 
he  had  a  Christian  bed  to  sleep  in.  He  took  off 
his  gorgeous  robes — the  only  things  that  re- 
mained to  prove  to  him  that  the  events  of  that 
evening  had  been  no  delusion — and  locked  them 
in  his  wardrobe  with  a  sense  of  relief  that  he 


NO  PLACE  LIKE  HOME  17f 

would  never  be  required  to  wear  them  again, 
and  his  last  conscious  thought  before  he  fell 
asleep  was  the  comforting  reflection  that,  if 
there  were  any  barrier  between  Sylvia  and  him- 
self, it  would  be  removed  in  the  course  of  a 
very  few  more  hours. 


CHAPTER  XI 
a  fool's,  paradise 

Ventimore  found  next  morning  that  his 
bath  and  shaving  water  had  been  brought  up, 
from  which  he  inferred,  quite  correctly,  that 
his  landlady  must  have  returned. 

Secretly  he  was  by  no  means  looking  for- 
ward  to  his  next  interview  with  her,  but  she  ap- 
peared with  his  bacon  and  coffee  in  a  spirit  so 
evidently  chastened  that  he  saw  he  would  have 
no  difficulty  so  far  as  she  was  concerned. 

"  I'm  sure,  Mr.  Ventimore,  sir,"  she  began 
apologetically,  "  I  don't  know  what  you  must 
have  thought  of  me  and  Rapkin  last  night,  leav- 
ing the  house  like  we  did." 

"  It  was  extremely  inconvenient,"  said  Hor- 
ace, "  and  not  at  all  what  I  should  have  ex- 
pected from  you.  But  possibly  you  had  some 
reason  for  it? " 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Rapkin,  running  her 
hand  nervously  along  the  back  of  a  chair,  "  the 
fact  is  something  come  over  me,  and  come  over 
178 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  179 

Rapkin,  as  we  couldn't  stop  here  another  min- 
ute, not  if  it  was  ever  so." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Horace,  raising  his  eyebrows, 
"  restlessness,  eh,  Mrs.  Rapkin?  Awkward  that 
it  should  come  on  just  then,  though,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  It  was  the  look  of  the  place,  somehow," 
said  Mrs.  Rapkin.  "  If  you'll  believe  me,  sir, 
it  was  all  changed  like — nothink  in  it  the  same 
from  top  to  bottom !  " 

"  Really?  "  said  Horace.  "  I  don't  notice 
any  difference  myself." 

"No  more  don't  I,  sir,  not  by  daylight; 
but  last  night  it  was  all  domes  and  harches  and 
marble  fountings  let  into  the  floor,  with  parties 
moving  about  downstairs  all  silent,  and  as  black 
as  your  hat — which  Rapkin  saw  them  as  well 
as  what  I  did." 

"  From  the  state  your  husband  was  in  last 
night,"  said  Horace,  "  I  should  say  he  was  capa- 
ble of  seeing  anything — and  double  of  most 
things." 

"  I  won't  deny,  sir,  that  Rapkin  mayn't 
have  been  quite  hisself,  as  a  very  little  upsets  I 
him  after  he's  spent  an  afternoon  studying  the 
papers  and  what  not  at  the  Libery.  But  I  see 
the  niggers,  too,  Mr.  Ventimore,  and  no  one 
can  say  I  ever  take  more  than  is  good  for  me." 

"  I  don't  suggest  that  for  a  moment,  Mrs. 


180  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

Rapkin,"  said  Horace;  "  only,  if  the  house  was 
as  you  describe  last  night,  how  do  you  account 
for  its  being  all  right  this  morning?  " 

Mrs.  Rapkin,  in  her  embarrassment,  was  re- 
duced to  folding  her  apron  into  small  plaits. 
"  It's  not  for  me  to  say,  sir,"  she  replied,  "  but, 
if  I  was  to  give  an  opinion,  it  would  be  as  them 
parties  as  called  'ere  on  camels  the  other  day 
was  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  were  right,  Mrs. 
Rapkin,"  said  Horace  blandly.  "  You  see,  you 
had  been  exerting  yourself  over  the  cooking, 
and  no  doubt  were  in  an  overexcited  state,  and, 
as  you  say,  those  camels  had  taken  hold  of 
your  imagination  until  you  were  ready  to  see 
anything  that  Rapkin  saw — and  he  was  ready 
to  see  anything  you  did.  It's  not  at  all  uncom- 
mon. Scientific  people,  I  believe,  call  it  '  col- 
lective hallucination.'  " 

"  Law,  sir !  "  said  the  good  woman,  consid- 
erably impressed  by  this  diagnosis.  "  You  don't 
mean  to  say  I  had  that!  I  was  always  fanciful 
from  a  girl,  and  could  see  things  in  coffee 
grounds  as  nobody  else  could,  but  I  never  was 
took  like  that  before.  And  to  think  of  me  leav- 
ing my  dinner  half  cooked,  and  you  expecting 
your  young  lady  and  her  pa  and  ma — well,  there 
now,  I  am  sorry.    Whatever  did  you  do,  sir? " 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  181 

"  We  managed  to  get  food  of  sorts  from 
somewhere,"  said  Horace,  "  but  it  was  most  un- 
comfortable for  me,  and  I  trust,  Mrs.  Rapkin, 
I  sincerely  trust  that  it  will  not  occur  again." 

"  That  I'll  answer  for  it  shan't,  sir.  And 
you  won't  take  no  notice  to  Rapkin,  sir,  will 
you?  Though  it  was  his  seein'  the  niggers  and 
that  as  put  it  into  my  'ead,  but  I  'ave  spoke  to 
him  pretty  severe  already,  and  he's  truly  sorry 
and  ashamed  for  forgetting  hisself  as  he  did." 

"  Very  well,  Mrs.  Rapkin,"  said  Horace, 
"  we  will  understand  that  last  night's — hem — 
rather  painful  experience  is  not  to  be  alluded 
to  again — on  either  side." 

He  felt  sincerely  thankful  to  have  got  out 
of  it  so  easily,  for  it  was  impossible  to  say  what 
gossip  might  not  have  been  set  on  foot  if  the 
Rapkins  had  not  been  brought  to  see  the  advisa- 
bility of  reticence  on  the  subject. 

"  There's  one  more  thing,  sir,  I  wished  for 
to  speak  to  you  about,"  said  Mrs.  Rapkin,  "  that 
great  brass  vawse  as  you  brought  at  an  oction 
some  time  back.    I  dunno  if  you  remember  it?  " 

"  I  remember  it,"  said  Horace.  "  Well, 
what  about  it? " 

"  Why,  sir,  I  found  it  in  the  coal  cellar  this 
morning,  and  I  thought  I'd  ask  if  that  was 
where   you   wished   it   kep'   in   future.      For, 


182  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

though  no  amount  of  polish  could  make  it  what 
I  call  a  tasty  thing,  it's  neither  hornimental  nor 
yet  useful  where  it  is  at  present." 

"  Oh,"  said  Horace,  rather  relieved,  for  he 
had  had  an  ill-defined  dread,  from  her  opening 
words,  that  the  bottle  might  have  been  misbe- 
having itself  in  some  way.  "  Put  it  wherever 
you  please,  Mrs.  Rapkin;  do  whatever  you  like 
with  it,  so  long  as  I  don't  see  the  thing  again." 

"  Very  good,  sir.  I  on'y  thought  I'd  ask  the 
question,"  said  Mrs.  Rapkin,  as  she  closed  the 
door  upon  herself. 

Altogether,  Horace  walked  to  Great 
Cloister  Street  that  morning  in  a  fairly  cheer- 
ful mood,  and  amiably  disposed,  even  toward 
the  Jinnee.  With  all  his  many  faults,  he  was 
a  thoroughly  good-natured  old  devil,  very  supe- 
rior in  every  way  to  the  one  the  Arabian  Nights' 
Fisherman  found  in  his  bottle. 

"  Ninety  -  nine  Jinn  out  of  a  hundred," 
thought  Horace,  "  would  have  turned  nasty  on 
finding  benefit  after  benefit  '  declined,  with 
thanks.'  But  one  good  point  in  Fakrash  is  that 
he  does  take  a  hint  in  good  part,  and,  as  soon 
as  he  can  be  made  to  see  where  he's  wrong, 
he's  always  ready  to  set  things  right.  And  he 
thoroughly  understands  now  that  these  Oriental 
dodges   of   his   won't   do   nowadays,    and    that 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  183 

when  people  see  a  penniless  man  suddenly  wal- 
lowing in  riches  they  naturally  want  to  know 
how  he  came  by  them.  I  don't  suppose  he  will 
trouble  me  much  in  future.  If  he  should  look 
in  now  and  then,  I  must  put  up  with  it.  Per- 
haps, if  I  suggested  it,  he  wouldn't  mind  coming 
in  some  form  that  would  look  less  outlandish.  If 
he  could  get  himself  up  as  a  banker,  or  a  bishop 
—  the  bishop  of  Baghdad,  say  —  I  shouldn't 
care  how  often  he  called.  Only  I  can't  have 
him  coming  down  the  chimney  in  either  ca- 
pacity. But  he'll  see  that  himself.  And  he's 
done  me  one  real  service;  I  mustn't  let  myself 
forget  that.  He  sent  me  old  Wackerbath.  By 
the  way,  I  wonder  if  he's  seen  my  designs  yet, 
and  what  he  thinks  of  them." 

He  was  at  his  table,  engaged  in  jotting  down 
some  rough  ideas  for  the  decoration  of  the  re- 
ception rooms  in  the  projected  house,  when 
Beevor  came  in. 

"  I've  got  nothing  doing  just  now,"  he  said, 
"  so  I  thought  I'd  come  in  and  have  a  squint  at 
those  plans  of  yours,  if  they're  forward  enough 
to  be  seen  yet." 

Yentimore  had  to  explain  that  even  the  im- 
perfect method  of  examination  proposed  was 
not  possible,  as  he  had  despatched  the  draw- 
ings to  his  client  the  night  before. 


184  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"Phew!  "  said  Beevor,  "  that's  sharp  work, 
isn't  it?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I've  been  sticking  hard  at 
it  for  over  a  fortnight." 

"  Well,  you  might  have  given  me  a  chance 
of  seeing  what  you  have  made  of  it.  I  let  you 
see  all  my  work." 

"  To  tell  you  the  honest  truth,  old  fel- 
low, I  wasn't  at  all  sure  you'd  like  it,  and  I 
was  afraid  you'd  put  me  out  of  conceit  with 
what  I'd  done,  and  Wackerbath  was  in  a 
frantic  hurry  to  have  the  plans;  so  there  it 
was." 

"  And  do  you  think  he'll  be  satisfied  with 
them? " 

*  He  ought  to  be.  I  don't  like  to  be  cock- 
sure, but  I  believe,  I  really  do  believe,  that  I've 
given  him  rather  more  than  he  expected.  It's 
going  to  be  a  devilish  good  house,  though  I  say 
it  myself." 

"  Something  new-fangled  and  fantastic,  eh? 
Well,  he  mayn't  care  about  it,  you  know. 
When  you've  had  my  experience,  you'll  realize 
that  a  client  is  a  rum  bird  to  satisfy." 

"  I  shall  satisfy  my  old  bird,"  said  Horace 
gaily.  "  He'll  have  a  cage  he  can  hop  about 
in  to  his  heart's  content." 

"You're  a  clever  chap  enough,"  said  Bee- 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  185 

vor,  "  but  to  carry  a  big  job  like  this  through 
you  want  one  thing,  and  that's  ballast." 

"  Not  while  you  heave  yours  at  my  head. 
Come,  old  fellow,  you  aren't  really  riled  be- 
cause I  sent  off  those  plans  without  showing 
them  to  you?  I  shall  soon  have  them  back, 
and  then  you  can  pitch  into  'em  as  much  as  you 
please.  Seriously,  though,  I  shall  want  all  the 
help  you  can  spare  when  I  come  to  the  com- 
pleted designs." 

"  Um,"  said  Beevor,  "  you've  got  along 
very  well  alone  so  far — at  least  by  your  own 
account — so  I  dare  say  you'll  be  able  to  manage 
without  me  to  the  end.  Only,  you  know,"  he 
added,  as  he  left  the  room,  "  you  haven't  won 
your  spurs  yet.  A  fellow  isn't  necessarily  a 
Gilbert  Scott,  or  a  Norman  Shaw,  or  a  Water- 
house,  just  because  he  happens  to  get  a  sixty- 
thousand-pound  job  the  first  go  off!  " 

"  Poor  old  Beevor !  "  thought  Horace  re- 
pentantly. "  I've  put  his  back  up.  I  might  just 
as  well  have  shown  him  the  plans,  after  all;  it 
wouldn't  have  hurt  me,  and  it  would  have 
pleased  Mm.  Never  mind,  I'll  make  my  peace 
with  him  after  lunch.  I'll  ask  him  to  give  me 
his  idea  for  a —  No,  hang  it  all,  even  friend- 
ship has  its  limits." 

He   returned   from   lunch,    to   hear   what 


186  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

sounded  like  an  altercation  of  some  sort  in  his 
office,  in  which,  as  he  neared  his  door,  Beevor's 
voice  was  distinctly  audible. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  was  saying,  "  I  have 
already  told  you  that  it  is  no  affair  of  mine." 

"  But  I  ask  you,  sir,  as  a  brother  architect," 
said  another  voice,  "  whether  you  consider  it 
professional  or  reasonable " 

"  As  a  brother  architect,"  replied  Beevor, 
as  Yentimore  opened  the  door,  "  I  would  rather 
be  excused  from  giving  an  opinion.  .  .  .  Ah, 
here  is  Mr.  Yentimore  himself." 

Horace  entered,  to  find  himself  confronted 
by  Mr.  Wackerbath,  whose  face  was  purple  and 
whose  white  whiskers  were  bristling  with  rage. 
"  So,  sir!  "  he  began.  "  So,  sir!  "  and  choked 
ignominiously.  "  There  appears  to  have  been 
some  misunderstanding,  my  dear  Yentimore," 
explained  Beevor,  with  a  studious  correctness 
which  was  only  a  shade  less  offensive  than  open 
triumph.  "  I  think  I'd  better  leave  you  and 
this  gentleman  to  talk  it  over  quietly." 

"Quietly!"  exclaimed  Mr.  "Wackerbath, 
with  an  apoplectic  snort.     "  Quietly  !  " 

"  I've  no  idea  what  you  are  so  excited  about, 
sir,"  said  Horace.  "  Perhaps  you  will  ex- 
plain." 

"  Explain ! "     Mr.      Wackerbath     gasped. 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  187 

"  Why,  .  .  .  No,  if  I  speak  just  now  I  shall  be 
ill.  You  tell  him,"  he  added,  waving  a  plump 
hand  in  Beevor's  direction. 

"  I'm  not  in  possession  of  all  the  facts,"  said 
Beevor  smoothly,  "  but,  so  far  as  I  can  gather, 
this  gentleman  thinks  that,  considering  the  im- 
portance of  the  work  he  intrusted  to  your  hands, 
you  have  given  less  time  to  it  than  he  might 
have  expected.  As  I  have  told  him,  that  is  a 
matter  which  does  not  concern  me,  and  which 
he  must  discuss  with  you." 

So  saying,  Beevor  retired  to  his  own  room, 
and  shut  the  door  with  the  same  irreproachable 
discretion,  which  conveyed  that  he  was  not  in 
the  least  surprised,  but  was  too  much  of  a  gen- 
tleman to  show  it. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Wackerbath,"  began  Horace 
when  they  were  alone,  "  so  you're  disappointed 
with  the  house?  "  * 

"  Disappointed ! "  said  Mr.  Wackerbath 
furiously.    "I  am  disgusted,  sir;  disgusted!  " 

Horace's  heart  sank  lower  still;  had  he  de- 
ceived himself  after  all,  then?  Had  he  been 
nothing  but  a  conceited  fool,  and — most  gall- 
ing thought  of  all — had  Beevor  judged  him 
only  too  acurately?  And  yet  no,  he  could  not 
believe  it;  he  Tcnew  his  work  was  good. 

"  This  is  plain  speaking  with  a  vengeance," 
13 


188  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

lie  said.  "  I'm  sorry  you're  dissatisfied.  I  did 
my  best  to  carry  out  your  instructions." 

"  Oh,  you  did?  "  sputtered  Mr.  Wackerbath. 
"  That's  what  you  call —  But  go  on,  sir;  go 
on!" 

"  I  got  it  done  as  quickly  as  possible,"  con- 
tinued Horace,  "  because  I  understood  you 
wished  no  time  to  be  lost." 

"  No  one  can  accuse  you  of  dawdling  over 
it.  "What  I  should  like  to  know  is  how  the  devil 
you  managed  to  get  it  done  in  the  time." 

"  I  worked  incessantly  all  day  and  every 
day,"  said  Horace.  "  That's  how  I  managed 
it,  and  this  is  all  the  thanks  I  get  for  it." 

"Thanks!"  Mr.  Wackerbath  well-nigh 
howled.  "  You — you  insolent  young  charlatan, 
you  expect  thanks!  " 

"  Now,  look  here,  Mr.  Wackerbath,"  said 
Horace,  whose  own  temper  was  getting  a  little 
frayed,  "  I'm  not  accustomed  to  being  treated 
like  this,  and  I  don't  intend  to  submit  to  it. 
Just  tell  me,  in  as  moderate  language  as  you 
can  command,  what  you  object  to." 

"  I  object  to  the  whole  damned  thing,  sir. 
I  mean,  I  repudiate  the  entire  concern.  It's 
the  work  of  a  raving  lunatic — a  place  that  no 
English  gentleman,  sir,  with  any  self-respect  or 
— ah — consideration  for  his  reputation  and  posi- 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  189 

tion  in  the  county,  could  consent  to  occupy  for 
a  single  hour." 

"Oh!"  said  Horace,  feeling  deathly  sick, 
"  in  that  case  it  is  useless,  of  course,  to  suggest 
any  modifications." 

"  Absolutely,"  said  Mr.  "Wackerbath. 

"  Very  well,  then,  there's  no  more  to  be 
said,"  replied  Horace.  "  You  will  have  no  dif- 
ficulty in  finding  another  architect  who  will  be 
more  successful  in  realizing  your  intentions. 
Mr.  Beevor,  the  gentleman  you  met  just  now," 
he  added,  with  a  touch  of  bitterness,  "  would 
probably  be  just  your  man.  Of  course,  I  retire 
altogether.  And  really,  if  any  one  is  the  suf- 
ferer over  this,  I  fancy  it's  myself.  I  can't  see 
how  you  are  any  the  worse." 

"  Not  any  the  worse,"  cried  Mr.  Wacker- 
bath, "when  the  infernal  place  is  built!  " 

"  Built !  "  echoed  Horace  feebly. 

"  I  tell  you,  sir,  I  saw  it  with  my  own  eyes, 
driving  to  the  station  this  morning;  my  coach- 
man and  footman  saw  it;  my  wife  saw  it.  Damn 
it,  sir,  we  all  saw  it!  " 

Then  Horace  understood.  His  indefatiga- 
ble Jinnee  had  been  at  work  again !  Of  course, 
for  Fakrash  it  must  have  been  what  he  would 
term  "  the  easiest  of  affairs  " — especially  after 
a  glance  at  the  plans  (and  Yentimore  remem- 


190  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

bered  that  the  Jinnee  had  surprised  him  at 
work  upon  them,  and  even  requested  to  have 
them  explained  to  him) — to  dispense  with  con- 
tractors and  bricklayers  and  carpenters,  and  con- 
struct the  entire  building  in  the  course  of  a 
single  night. 

It  was  a  generous  and  spirited  action;  but, 
particularly  now  that  the  original  designs  had 
been  faulty  and  rejected,  it  placed  the  unfor- 
tunate architect  in  a  most  invidious  position. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Wackerbath,  with 
elaborate  irony,  "  I  presume  it  is  you  whom  I 
have  to  thank  for  improving  my  land  by  erect- 
ing this  precious  palace  on  it?  " 

"  I — I — "  began  Horace,  utterly  broken 
down;  and  then  he  saw,  with  emotions  that  may 
be  imagined,  the  Jinnee  himself,  in  his  green 
robes,  standing  immediately  behind  Mr.  Wack- 
erbath. 

"  Greeting  to  ye !  "  said  Fakrash,  coming 
forward,  with  his  smile  of  amiable  cunning. 
"  If  I  mistake  not,"  he  added,  addressing  the 
startled  estate  agent,  who  had  jumped  visibly, 
"  thou  art  the  merchant  for  whom  my  son 
here  " — and  he  laid  a  hand  on  Horace's  shrink- 
ing shoulder — "  undertook  to  construct  a  man- 
sion?" 

"  I  am,"  said  Mr.  Wackerbath,  in  some  mys- 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  191 

tification.  "  Have  I  the  pleasure  of  addressing 
Mr.  Ventimore  senior? " 

"  No,  no,"  put  in  Horace,  "  no  relation ;  lie's 
a — a  sort  of  informal  partner." 

"  Hast  thou  not  found  him  an  architect  of 
divine  gifts? "  inquired  the  Jinnee,  beaming 
with  pride.  "  Is  not  the  palace  that  he  hath 
raised  for  thee  by  his  transcendent  accomplish- 
ments a  marvel  of  beauty  and  stateliness,  and 
one  that  sultans  might  envy?  " 

"  No,  sir !  "  shouted  the  infuriated  Mr. 
"Wackerbath.  "  Since  you  ask  my  opinion,  it's 
nothing  of  the  sort.  It's  a  ridiculous  tomfool 
cross  between  the  Palm  House  at  Kew  and  the 
Brighton  Pavilion.  There's  no  billiard  room, 
and  not  a  decent  bed-room  in  the  house — I've 
been  all  over  it,  so  I  ought  to  know — and,  as  for 
drainage,  there  isn't  a  sign  of  it.  And  he  has 
the  brass — ah,  I  should  say,  the  unblushing 
effrontery — to  call  that  a  country  house !  " 

Horace's  dismay  was  curiously  shot  with  re- 
lief. The  Jinnee,  who  was  certainly  very  far 
from  being  a  genius,  except  by  courtesy,  had 
taken  it  upon  himself  to  erect  the  palace  ac- 
cording to  his  own  notions  of  Arabian  domestic 
luxury;  and  Horace,  taught  by  bitter  experi- 
ence, could  sympathize  to  some  extent  with  his 
unfortunate  client.     On  the  other  hand,  it  was 


192  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

balm  to  his  smarting  self-respect  to  find  that 
it  was  not  his  own  plans  after  all  which  had 
been  found  so  preposterous;  and,  by  some  ob- 
scure mental  process,  which  I  do  not  propose  to 
explain,  he  became  reconciled  and  almost  grate- 
ful to  the  officious  Fakrash.  And  then,  too,  it 
was  his  Jinnee,  and  Horace  had  no  intention  of 
letting  him  be  bullied  by  an  outsider. 

"  Let  me  explain,  Mr.  Wackerbath,"  he 
said.  "  Personally,  I've  had  nothing  to  do  with 
this.  This  gentleman,  wishing  to  spare  me  the 
trouble,  has  taken  upon  himself  to  build  your 
house  for  you,  without  consulting  either  of  us, 
and,  from  what  I  know  of  his  powers  in  that 
direction,  I've  no  doubt  that — that  it's  a  devil- 
ish fine  place,  in  its  way.  Anyhow,  we  make 
no  charge  for  it;  he  presents  it  to  you  as  a  free 
gift.  Why  not  accept  it  as  such  and  make  the 
best  of  it? " 

"  Make  the  best  of  it!  "  stormed  Mr.  Wack- 
erbath. "  Stand  by  and  see  the  best  site  in 
three  counties  defaced  by  a  gimcrack  Moorish 
nightmare  like  that!  Why,  they'll  call  it 
*  Wackerbath's  Folly,'  sir.  I  shall  be  the  laugh- 
ing-stock of  the  neighbourhood.  I  can't  live  in 
the  beastly  building,  I  couldn't  afford  to  keep 
it  up,  and  I  won't  have  it  cumbering  my  land. 
Do  you  hear?    I  won't!    I'll  go  to  law,  cost  me 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  193 

what  it  may,  and  compel  you  and  your  Ara- 
bian friend  there  to  pull  the  thing  down. 
I'll  take  the  case  up  to  the  House  of  Lords 
if  necessary,  and  fight  you  as  long  as  I  can 
stand." 

"  As  long  as  thou  canst  stand,"  repeated 
Fakrash  gently.  "  That  is  a  long  time,  truly, 
O  thou  litigious  one!  .  .  .  On  all-fours,  un- 
grateful dog  that  thou  art,"  he  cried,  with  an 
abrupt  and  entire  change  of  manner,  "  and 
crawl  henceforth  for  the  remainder  of  thy  days! 
I,  Fakr ash-el- Aamash,  command  thee!  " 

It  was  both  painful  and  grotesque  to  see  the 
portly  and  intensely  respectable  Mr.  Wacker- 
bath  suddenly  drop  forward  on  his  hands  while 
desperately  striving  to  preserve  his  dignity. 

"  How  dare  you,  sir !  "  he  almost  barked. 
"  How  dare  you,  I  say!  Are  you  aware  that  I 
could  summon  you  for  this?  Let  me  up.  I 
insist  upon  getting  up!  " 

"  O  contemptible  in  aspect!  "  replied  the 
Jinnee,  throwing  open  the  door.  "  Begone  to 
thy  kennel!  " 

"I  won't!  I  can't!"  whimpered  the  un- 
happy man.  "  How  do  you  expect  me — me 
— to  cross  Westminster  Bridge  on  all-fours  £ 
What  will  the  officials  think  at  Waterloo, 
where  I  have  been  known  and  respected  for 


194  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

years?  How  am  I  to  face  my  family  in — in 
this  position?  Do,  for  mercy's  sake,  let  me 
get  up!" 

Horace  had  been  too  shocked  and  startled 
to  speak  before,  but  now  humanity,  coupled 
with  disgust  for  the  Jinnee's  high-handed  meth- 
ods, compelled  him  to  interfere.  "  Mr.  Fak- 
rash,"  he  said,  "  this  has  gone  far  enough.  Un- 
less you  stop  tormenting  this  unfortunate  gen- 
tleman, I've  done  with  you." 

"  Never!  "  said  Fakrash.  "  He  hath  dared 
to  abuse  my  palace,  which  is  far  too  sumptuous 
a  dwelling  for  such  a  son  of  a  burned  dog  as  he. 
Therefore  I  will  make  his  abode  to  be  in  the 
dust  forever." 

"  But  I  donH  find  fault,"  yelped  poor  Mr. 
Wackerbath.  "  You — you  entirely  misunder- 
stood the — the  few  comments  I  ventured  to 
make.  It's  a  capital  mansion,  handsome,  and 
yet  '  home-y,'  too.  I'll  never  say  another 
word  against  it.  I'll — yes — I'll  live  in  it,  if 
only  you'll  let  me  up!  " 

"  Do  as  he  asks  you,"  said  Horace  to  the 
Jinnee,  "  or  I  swear  I'll  never  speak  to  you 
again." 

"  Thou  art  the  arbiter  of  this  matter,"  was 
the  reply,  "  and  if  I  yield  it  is  at  thy  interces- 
sion and  not  his.     Rise,  then,"  he  said  to  the 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  195 

humiliated  client.  "  Depart,  and  show  us  the 
breadth  of  thy  shoulders!  " 

It  was  this  precise  moment  which  Beevor, 
who  was  probably  unable  to  restrain  his  curi- 
osity any  longer,  chose  to  re-enter  the  room. 
"  Oh,  Ventimore,"  he  began,  "  did  I  leave 
my —  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  thought  you  were 
alone  again." 

"  Don't  go,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Wackerbath,  as 
he  scrambled  awkwardly  to  his  feet,  his  usually 
florid  face  mottled  in  gray  and  lilac.  "  I — I 
should  like  you  to  know  that,  after  talking 
things  quietly  over  with  your  friend  Mr.  Venti- 
more, and  his  partner  here,  I  am  thoroughly 
convinced  that  my  objections  were  quite  un- 
tenable. I  retract  all  I  said.  The  house  is — ah 
— admirably  planned — most  convenient,  roomy 
— and — ah — unconventional.  The — the  entire 
freedom  from  all  sanitary  appliances  is  a  par- 
ticular recommendation.  In  short,  I  am  more 
than  satisfied.  Pray  forget  anything  I  may 
have  said  which  might  be  taken  to  imply  the 
contrary.  .  .  .  Gentlemen,  good  afternoon." 

He  bowed  himself  past  the  Jinnee  in  a  state 
of  deference  and  apprehension,  and  was  heard 
stumbling  down  the  staircase.  Horace  hardly 
dared  to  meet  Beevor's  eyes,  which  were  fixed 
upon  the  green-turbaned  Jinnee,  as  he  stood 


196  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

apart  in  dreamy  abstraction,  smiling  placidly  to 
himself. 

"  I  say,"  Beevor  said  to  Horace  at  last,  in 
an  undertone,  "  you  never  told  me  you  had 
gone  into  partnership." 

"  He's  not  a  regular  partner,"  whispered 
"Ventimore.  "  He  does  things  for  me  occasion- 
ally; that's  all." 

"  He  soon  managed  to  smooth  your  client 
down,"  remarked  Beevor. 

"  Yes,"  said  Horace.  "  He's  an  Oriental, 
you  see,  and  he  has  a — a  very  persuasive  man- 
ner.   "Would  you  like  to  be  introduced? " 

"  If  it's  all  the  same  to  you,"  replied  Beevor, 
still  below  his  voice,  "  I'd  rather  be  excused. 
To  tell  you  the  truth,  old  fellow,  I  don't  alto- 
gether fancy  the  looks  of  him.  And  it's  my 
opinion,"  he  added,  "  that  the  less  you  have  to  do 
with  him  the  better.  He  strikes  me  as  a  wrong 
'un,  old  man." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Horace.  "  Eccentric,  that's 
all;  you  don't  understand  him." 

"Receive  news!"  began  the  Jinnee,  after 
Beevor,  with  suspicion  and  disapproval  evident 
even  on  his  back  and  shoulders,  had  retreated 
to  his  own  room.  "  Suleyman  the  son  of  Daood 
sleeps  with  his  fathers." 

"  I  know,"  retorted  Horace,  whose  nerves 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  197 

were  unequal  to  much  reference  to  Solomon 
just  then.     "  So  does  Queen  Anne." 

"  I  have  not  heard  of  her.  But  art  thou 
not  astounded,  then,  by  my  tidings?  " 

"  I  have  matters  nearer  home  to  think 
about,"  said  Horace  dryly.  "  I  must  say,  Mr. 
Fakrash,  you  have  landed  me  in  a  pretty  mess." 

"  Explain  thyself  more  fully,  for  I  compre- 
hend thee  not." 

"  Why  on  earth,"  Horace  groaned, 
"  couldn't  you  let  me  build  that  house  my  own 
way? " 

"  Did  I  not  hear  thee  with  mine  own  ears 
lament  thy  inability  to  perform  the  task? 
Thereupon  I  determined  that  no  disgrace  should 
fall  upon  thee  by  reason  of  such  incompetence, 
since  I  myself  would  erect  a  palace  so  splendid 
that  it  should  cause  thy  name  to  live  forever. 
And  behold  it  is  done !  " 

"  It  is,"  said  Horace,  "  and  so  am  I.  I  don't 
want  to  reproach  you.  I  quite  feel  that  you 
have  acted  with  the  best  intentions;  but,  oh, 
hang  it  all!  Can't  you  see  that  you've  abso- 
lutely wrecked  my  career  as  an  architect? " 

"  That  is  a  thing  that  can  not  be,"  returned 
the  Jinnee,  "  seeing  that  thou  hast  all  the 
credit." 

"  The  credit!    This  is  England,  not  Arabia. 


198  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

What  credit  can  I  gain  from  being  supposed  to 
be  the  architect  of  an  Oriental  pavilion,  which 
might  be  all  very  well  for  Haroun-al-Raschid, 
but  I  can  assure  you  is  preposterous  as  a  home 
for  an  average  Briton? " 

"  Yet  that  overfed  hound,"  remarked  the 
Jinnee,  "  expressed  much  gratification  there- 
with." 

"  Naturally,  after  he  had  found  that  he 
could  not  give  a  candid  opinion  except  on  all- 
fours.  A  valuable  testimonial,  that !  And  how 
do  you  suppose  I  can  take  his  money?  No,  Mr. 
Fakrash,  if  I  have  to  go  on  all-fours  myself 
for  it,  I  must  say,  and  I  will  say,  that  you've 
made  a  most  frightful  muddle  of  it." 

"  Acquaint  me  with  thy  wishes,"  said  Fak- 
rash, a  little  abashed,  "  for  thou  knowest  that 
I  can  refuse  thee  naught." 

"  Then,"  said  Horace  boldly,  "  couldn't  you 
remove  that  palace,  dissipate  it  into  space,  or 
something?  " 

"  Verily,"  said  the  Jinnee,  in  an  aggrieved 
tone,  "  to  do  good  acts  unto  such  as  thee  is  but 
wasted  time,  for  thou  givest  me  no  peace  till 
they  are  undone." 

"  This  is  the  last  time,"  urged  Horace.  "  I 
promise  never  to  ask  you  for  anything  again." 

"  Save  for  the  magnitude  of  thy  service 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  199 

unto  me,"  said  Fakrash,  "  I  would  not  hearken 
to  this  caprice  of  thine,  nor  wilt  thou  find  me 
so  indulgent  on  another  occasion.  But  for  this 
once  " — and  here  he  muttered  some  words  and 
made  a  sweeping  gesture  with  his  right  hand — 
"  thy  desire  is  granted  unto  thee.  Of  the  pal- 
ace and  all  that  is  therein  there  remaineth  no 
trace." 

"  Another  surprise  for  poor  old  Wacker- 
bath,"  thought  Horace.  "  But  a  pleasant  one 
this  time.  My  dear  Mr.  Fakrash,"  he  said 
aloud,  "  I  really  can't  say  how  grateful  I  am 
to  you.  And  now — I  hate  bothering  you  like 
this,  but  if  you  could  manage  to  look  in  on  Pro- 
fessor Futvoye " 

"  What!  "  cried  the  Jinnee.  "  Yet  another 
request?    Already!  " 

"  Well,  you  promised  you'd  do  that  before, 
you  know,"  said  Horace. 

"  For  that  matter,"  remarked  Fakrash,  "  I 
have  already  fulfilled  my  promise." 

"  You  have  ?  "  Horace  exclaimed.  "  And 
does  he  believe  now  that  it's  all  true  about  that 
bottle?" 

"  When  I  left  him,"  answered  the  Jinnee, 
"  all  his  doubts  were  removed." 

"  By  Jove,  you  are  a  trump !  "  cried  Horace, 
only  too  glad  to  be  able  to  commend  with  sin- 


200  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

cerity.  "  And  do  you  think  if  I  went  to  him 
now  I  should  find  him  the  same  as  usual  %  " 

"  Nay,"  said  Fakrash,  with  his  weak  and 
yet  inscrutable  smile,  "  that  is  more  than  I  can 
promise  thee." 

"  But  why,"  asked  Horace,  "  if  he  knows 
all? " 

There  was  the  oddest  expression  in  the  Jin- 
nee's furtive  eyes — a  kind  of  elfin  mischief,  with 
a  sense  of  wrong-doing,  like  a  naughty  child 
whose  palate  is  still  reminiscent  of  illicit  jam. 
"  Because,"  he  replied,  with  a  sound  between 
a  giggle  and  a  chuckle,  "  because,  in  order  to 
overcome  his  unbelief,  it  was  necessary  to  trans- 
form him  into  a  one-eyed  mule  of  hideous  ap- 
pearance." 

"  W hat !  "  cried  Horace.  But,  whether  to 
avoid  thanks  or  explanations,  the  Jinnee  had 
disappeared  with  his  customary  abruptness. 

"Fakrash!"  shouted  Horace.  "Mr.  Fak- 
rash! Come  back!  Do  you  hear?  I  must 
speak  to  you!  " 

There  was  no  answer.  The  Jinnee  might  be 
well  on  his  way  to  Lake  Chad  or  Jericho  by 
that  time;  he  was  certainly  far  enough  away 
from  Great  Cloister  Street. 

Horace  sat  down  at  his  drawing  table  and, 
his  head  buried  in  his  hands,  tried  to  think  out 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  201 

this  latest  complication.  Fakrash  had  trans- 
formed Professor  Futvoye  into  a  one-eyed  mule. 
It  would  have  seemed  incredible,  almost  un- 
thinkable once,  but  so  many  impossibilities  had 
happened  to  Horace  of  late  that  one  more  made 
little  or  no  strain  upon  his  credulity. 

What  he  felt  chiefly  was  the  new  barrier 
that  this  event  must  raise  between  himself  and 
Sylvia.  To  do  him  justice,  the  mere  fact  that 
the  father  of  his  fiancee  was  a  mule  did  not 
lessen  his  ardour  in  the  slightest.  Even  if  he 
had  felt  no  personal  responsibility  for  the  calam- 
ity, he  loved  Sylvia  far  too  well  to  be  deterred 
by  it,  and  few  family  cupboards  are  without  a 
skeleton  of  some  sort. 

No;  he  would  have  married  Sylvia  just  as 
cheerfully  if  her  father  had  been  turned  into  a 
three-legged  pelican  or  a  two-headed  toad,  in- 
stead of  simply  a  one-eyed  mule.  With  courage 
and  the  determination  to  look  only  on  the  bright 
side  of  things,  almost  any  domestic  drawback 
can  be  lived  down. 

But  the  real  point,  as  he  instantly  recog- 
nised, was  whether,  in  the  changed  condition  of 
circumstances,  Sylvia  would  consent  to  marry 
him.  Might  she  not,  after  the  experiences  of 
that  abominable  dinner  of  his  the  night  before, 
connect  him  in  some  way  with  her  poor  father's 


202  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

transformation?  She  might  even  suspect  him 
of  employing  this  means  of  compelling  the  pro- 
fessor to  renew  their  engagement,  and  indeed 
Horace  was  by  no  means  certain  himself  that 
the  Jinnee  might  not  have  acted  from  some 
muddle-headed  motive  of  this  kind.  It  was 
likely  enough  that  the  professor,  after  learning 
the  truth,  should  have  refused  to  allow  his 
daughter  to  marry  the  protege  of  so  dubious  a 
patron,  and  that  Fakrash  had  then  resorted  to 
pressure. 

In  any  case,  Yentimore  knew  Sylvia  well 
enough  to  feel  sure  that  pride  would  steel  her 
heart  against  him  so  long  as  this  obstacle  re- 
mained. Marriage  was  out  of  the  question 
when  the  only  creature  who  could  give  her 
away  was  a  one-eyed  mule. 

It  would  be  unseemly  to  set  down  here  all 
that  Horace  said  and  thought  of  the  person  who 
had  brought  all  this  upon  them,  but  after  some 
wild  and  futile  raving  he  became  calm  enough 
to  recognise  that  his  proper  place  was  by  Syl- 
via's side.  Perhaps  he  ought  to  have  told  her 
all  at  first,  and  then  she  would  have  been  less 
unprepared  for  this.  And  yet  how  could  he 
trouble  her  mind  so  long  as  he  could  cling  to 
the  hope  that  the  Jinnee  would  cease  to  inter- 
fere? 


A  FOOL'S  PARADISE  203 

But  now  he  could  be  silent  no  longer.  Natu- 
rally the  prospect  of  calling  at  Cottesmore  Gar- 
dens just  then  was  anything  but  agreeable,  but 
he  felt  it  would  be  cowardly  to  keep  away. 

Besides,  he  would  cheer  them  up;  he  could 
bring  with  him  a  message  of  hope.  No  doubt 
they  believed  that  the  professor's  transforma- 
tion would  be  permanent — a  harrowing  pros- 
pect for  so  united  a  family — but  fortunately 
Horace  would  be  able  to  reassure  them  on  this 
point. 

Fakrash  had  always  revoked  his  previous 
performances  as  soon  as  he  could  be  brought  to 
understand  their  fatuity,  and  Ventimore  would 
take  good  care  that  he  revoked  this. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  with  a  sinking  heart 
and  an  unsteady  hand  that  he  pulled  the  visitors' 
bell  at  the  Futvoyes'  house  that  afternoon,  for 
he  neither  knew  in  what  state  he  should  find 
that  afflicted  family  nor  how  they  would  regard 
his  intrusion  at  such  a  time. 


14 


CHAPTER  Xn 

THE   MESSENGER   OF   HOPE 

Jessie,  the  neat  and  pretty  parlour  maid, 
opened  the  door  with  a  smile  of  welcome  which 
Horace  found  reassuring.  No  girl,  he  thought, 
whose  master  had  suddenly  been  transformed 
into  a  mule  could  possibly  smile  like  that.  The 
professor,  she  told  him,  was  not  at  home,  which 
again  was  comforting;  for  a  savant,  however 
careless  about  his  personal  appearance,  would 
scarcely  venture  to  brave  public  opinion  in  the 
semblance  of  a  quadruped. 

"Is  the  professor  out?"  he  inquired,  to 
make  sure. 

"  Not  exactly  out,  sir,"  said  the  maid,  "  but 
particularly  engaged,  working  hard  in  his  study, 
and  not  to  be  disturbed  on  no  account." 

This  was  encouraging,  too,  since  a  mule 
could  hardly  engage  in  literary  labour  of  any 
kind.  Evidently  the  Jinnee  must  either  have 
overrated  his  supernatural  powers  or  else  have 
been  deliberately  amusing  himself  at  Horace's 
204 


THE  MESSENGER  OP  HOPE  205 

expense.  "  Then  I  will  see  Miss  Futvoye,"  he 
said. 

"  Miss  Sylvia  is  with  the  master,  sir,"  said 
the  girl,  "  but  if  you'll  come  into  the  drawing- 
room  I'll  let  Mrs.  Futvoye  know  you  are 
here." 

He  had  not  been  in  the  drawing-room  long 
before  Mrs.  Futvoye  appeared,  and  one  glance 
at  her  face  confirmed  Ventimore's  worst  fears. 
Outwardly  she  was  calm  enough,  but  it  was  only 
too  obvious  that  her  calmness  was  the  result 
of  severe  self -repression :  her  eyes,  usually  so 
shrewdly  and  placidly  observant,  had  a  haggard 
and  hunted  look;  her  ears  seemed  on  the  strain 
to  catch  some  distant  sound.  "  I  hardly  thought 
we  should  see  you  to-day,"  she  began,  in  a  tone 
of  studied  reserve,  "  but  perhaps  you  came  to 
offer  some  explanation  of  the  extraordinary 
manner  in  which  you  thought  fit  to  entertain 
us  last  night.     If  so " 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Horace,  looking  into  his 
hat,  "  I  came  because  I  was  rather  anxious 
about  the  professor." 

"  About  my  husband? "  said  the  poor  lady, 
with  a  really  heroic  effort  to  appear  surprised. 
"  He — is — as  well  as  could  be  expected.  Why 
should  you  suppose  otherwise?  "  she  added,  with 
a  flash  of  suspicion. 


206  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  I  fancied  perhaps  that — that  he  mightn't 
be  quite  himself  to-day,"  said  Horace,  with  his 
eyes  on  the  carpet. 

"  I  see,"  said  Mrs.  Futvoye,  regaining  her 
composure,  "  you  were  afraid  that  all  those  for- 
eign dishes  might  not  have  agreed  with  him. 
But,  except  that  he  is  a  little  irritable  this 
afternoon,  he  is  much  as  usual." 

"  I'm  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  Horace, 
with  reviving  hope.  "  Do  you  think  he  would 
see  me  for  a  moment? " 

"  Great  heavens,  no!  "  cried  Mrs.  Futvoye, 
with  an  irrepressible  start.  "  I  mean,"  she  ex- 
plained, "  that,  after  what  took  place  last  night, 
Anthony — my  husband  very  properly  feels  that 
an  interview  would  be  too  painful." 

"  But  when  we  parted  he  was  perfectly 
friendly." 

"  I  can  only  say,"  replied  the  courageous 
woman,  "  that  you  would  find  him  considerably 
altered  now." 

Horace  had  no  difficulty  in  believing  it. 
"  At  least  I  may  see  Sylvia?  "  he  pleaded. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Futvoye.  "  I  really  can't 
have  Sylvia  disturbed  just  now.  She  is  very 
busy,  helping  her  father.  Anthony  has  to  read 
a  paper  at  one  of  his  societies  to-morrow  night, 
and  she  is  writing  it  out  from  his  dictation." 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  HOPE  207 

If  any  departure  from  strict  truth  can  ever 
be  excusable,  this  surely  was  one;  unfortunate- 
ly, just  then  Sylvia  herself  burst  into  the  room. 
"  Mother,"  she  cried,  without  seeing  Horace  in 
her  agitation,  "  do  come  to  papa — quick !  He 
has  just  begun  kicking  again — and  I  can't  man- 
age him  alone —  .  .  .  Oh,  you  here!  "  she 
broke  off,  as  she  saw  who  was  in  the  room. 
"Why  do  you  come  here  now?  Horace,  please 
— please  go  away !  Papa  is  rather  unwell,  noth- 
ing serious,  only — oh,  do  go  away!  " 

"  Darling !  "  said  Horace,  going  to  her  and 
taking  both  her  hands.  "  I  know  all — do  you 
understand? — all!  " 

"  Mamma !  "  cried  Sylvia  reproachfully. 
"  Have  you  told  him  already?  When  we  set- 
tled that  even  Horace  wasn't  to  know  till — till 
papa  recovers."  9 

"  I  have  told  him  nothing,  my  dear,"  replied 
her  mother.  "  He  can't  possibly  know,  unless — 
But  no,  that  isn't  possible.  And,  after  all," 
she  added,  with  a  warning  glance  at  her  daugh- 
ter, "  I  don't  know  why  we  should  make  any 
mystery  about  a  mere  attack  of  gout.  But  I 
had  better  go  and  see  if  your  father  wants  any- 
thing."    And  she  hurried  out  of  the  room. 

Sylvia  sat  down  and  gazed  silently  into  the 
fire.     "  I  dare  say  you  don't  know  how  dread- 


208  THE  BKASS  BOTTLE 

fully  people  kick  when  they've  got  gout,"  she 
remarked  presently. 

"  Oh,  yes  I  do,"  said  Horace  sympathetical- 
ly.   "  At  least  I  can  guess." 

"  Especially  when  it's  in  both  legs,"  con- 
tinued Sylvia. 

"  Or,"  said  Horace  gently,  "  in  all  four." 

"  Ah,  you  do  know!  "  cried  Sylvia.  "  Then 
it's  all  the  more  horrid  of  you  to  come." 

"  Dearest,"  said  Horace,  "  is  not  this  just 
the  time  when  my  place  should  be  near  you — 
and  him? " 

"  ISTot  near  papa,  Horace !  "  she  put  in  anx- 
iously.   "  It  wouldn't  be  at  all  safe." 

"  Do  you  really  think  I  have  any  fear  for 
myself? " 

"  Are  you  sure  you  quite  know  what  he  is 
like  now? " 

"  I  understand,"  said  Horace,  trying  to  put 
it  as  considerately  as  possible,  "  that  a  casual 
observer,  who  didn't  Jcnow  your  father,  might 
mistake  him,  at  first  sight,  for — for  some  sort 
of  quadruped." 

"  He's  a  mule,"  sobbed  Sylvia,  breaking 
down  entirely.  "  I  could  bear  it  better  if  he 
had  been  a  nice  mule.  .  .  .  B-but  he  isn't." 

"  Whatever  he  may  be,"  declared  Horace, 
as  he  knelt  by  her  chair  endeavouring  to  com- 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  HOPE  209 

fort  her,  "  nothing  can  alter  my  profound  re- 
spect for  him.  And  you  must  let  me  see  him, 
Sylvia,  because  I  fully  believe  I  shall  be  able 
to  cheer  him  up." 

"  If  you  imagine  you  can  persuade  him  to 
— to  laugh  it  off,"  said  Sylvia  tearfully. 

"  I  wasn't  proposing  to  try  and  make  him 
see  the  humorous  side  of  his  situation,"  Horace 
mildly  explained.  "  I  trust  I  have  more  tact 
than  that,  but  he  may  be  glad  to  know  that, 
at  the  worst,  it  is  only  a  temporary  inconven- 
ience. I'll  take  care  that  he's  all  right  again 
before  very  long." 

She  started  up  and  looked  at  him,  her  eyes 
widened  with  growing  dread  and  mistrust.  "  If 
you  can  speak  like  that,"  she  said,  "  it  must 
have  been  you  who —  No,  I  can't  believe  it — it 
would  be  too  horrible!  " 

"  I  who  did  what,  Sylvia?  Weren't  you 
there  when — when  it  happened?  " 

"No,"  she  replied.  "I  only  heard  of  it  after- 
ward. Mother  heard  papa  talking  loudly  in  his 
study  this  morning,  as  if  he  were  angry  with 
somebody,  and  at  last  she  grew  so  uneasy  she 
couldn't  bear  it  any  longer,  and  went  in  to  see 
what  was  the  matter  with  him.  Dad  was  quite 
alone  and  looking  as  usual,  only  a  little  excited ; 
and  then,  without  the  slightest  warning,  just 


210  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

as  she  entered  the  room,  he  changed  slowly 
into  a  mule  before  her  eyes!  Anybody  but 
mamma  would  have  lost  her  head  and  roused 
the  whole  house." 

"Thank  Heaven  she  didn't!"  said  Hor- 
ace fervently.  "  That  was  what  I  was  most 
afraid  of." 

"  Then — oh,  Horace,  it  was  you !  It's  no 
use  denying  it.  I  feel  more  sure  of  it  every 
moment." 

"  Now,  Sylvia,"  he  protested,  still  anxious,  if 
possible,  to  keep  the  worst  from  her,  "  what  can 
have  put  such  an  idea  as  that  into  your  head?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said  slowly.  "  Several 
things  last  night.  No  one  who  was  really  nice, 
and  like  everybody  else,  would  live  in  queer 
rooms  like  those,  and  dine  on  cushions,  with 
dreadful  black  slaves,  and — and  dancing  girls 
and  things.  You  pretended  you  were  quite 
poor." 

"  So  I  am,  darling.  And  as  for  the  rooms 
and — and  the  rest,  they're  all  gone,  Sylvia. 
If  you  went  to  Vincent  Square  to-day  you 
wouldn't  find  a  trace  of  them." 

"  That  only  shows—"  said  Sylvia.  "  But 
why  should  you  play  such  a  cruel  and — and  un- 
gentlemanly  trick  on  poor  dad?  If  you  had 
ever  really  loved  me " 


THE  MESSENGER  OF  HOPE  211 

"  But  I  do.  Sylvia,  you  can't  really  believe 
me  capable  of  such  an  outrage?  Look  at  me 
and  tell  me  so!  " 

"  !No,  Horace,"  said  Sylvia  frankly,  "  I 
don't  believe  you  did  it.  But  I  believe  you 
know  who  did.  And  you  had  better  tell  me  at 
once." 

"  If  you're  quite  sure  you  can  stand  it," 
he  replied,  "  I'll  tell  you  everything."  And, 
as  briefly  as  possible,  he  told  her  how  he  had 
unsealed  the  brass  bottle,  and  all  that  had  come 
of  it. 

She  bore  it,  on  the  whole,  better  than  he 
had  expected;  perhaps,  being  a  woman,  it  was 
some  consolation  to  her  to  remind  him  that  she 
had  foretold  something  of  this  kind  from  the 
very  first. 

"  But  of  course  I  never  really  thought  it 
would  be  so  awful  as  this,"  she  said.  "  Hor- 
ace, how  could  you  be  so  careless  as  to  let 
a  great  wicked  thing  like  that  escape  out  of  its 
bottle?" 

"  I  had  a  notion  it  was  a  manuscript,"  said 
Horace,  "  till  he  came  out.  But  he  isn't  a  great 
wicked  thing,  Sylvia.  He's  an  amiable  old 
Jinnee  enough.  And  he'd  do  anything  for  me. 
ISTobody  could  be  more  grateful  and  generous 
than  he  has  been." 


212  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  Do  you  call  it  generous  to  change  my  poor 
dear  dad  into  a  mule  ? "  inquired  Sylvia,  with 
a  little  curl  of  her  upper  lip. 

"That  was  an  oversight,"  said  Horace.  "He 
meant  no  harm  by  it.  In  Arabia  they  do  these 
things — or  used  to  in  his  day.  Not  that  that's 
much  excuse  for  him.  Still,  he's  not  so  young 
as  he  was,  and  besides,  being  bottled  up  for  all 
those  centuries  must  have  narrowed  him  rather. 
You  must  try  and  make  allowances  for  him, 
darling." 

"  I  shan't,"  said  Sylvia,  "  unless  he  apolo- 
gizes to  poor  father,  and  puts  him  right  at 
once." 

"  Why,  of  course  he'll  do  that,"  Horace  an- 
swered confidently.  "  I'll  see  that  he  does.  I 
don't  mean  to  stand  any  more  of  his  nonsense. 
I'm  afraid  I've  been  just  a  little  too  slack  for 
fear  of  hurting  his  feelings,  but  this  time  he's 
gone  too  far,  and  I  shall  talk  to  him  like  a 
Dutch  uncle.  He's  always  ready  to  do  the  right 
thing  when  he's  once  shown  where  he  has  gone 
wrong,  only  he  takes  such  a  lot  of  showing, 
poor  old  chap!  " 

"  But  when  do  you  think  he'll  do  the  right 
thing? " 

"  Oh,  as  soon  as  I  see  him  again." 

"Yes,  but  when  will  you  see  him  again?" 


THE  MESSENGER  OP  HOPE  213 

"  That's  more  than  I  can  say.  He's  away 
just  now — in  China,  or  Peru,  or  somewhere." 

"  Horace !  Then  he  won't  be  back  for 
months  and  months." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  will.  He  can  do  the  whole 
trip,  aller  et  retour,  you  know,  in  a  few  hours. 
He's  an  active  old  beggar  for  his  age.  In  the 
meantime,  dearest,  the  chief  thing  is  to  keep 
up  your  father's  spirits.  So  I  think  I'd  better — 
I  was  just  telling  Sylvia,  Mrs.  Futvoye,"  he 
said,  as  that  lady  re-entered  the  room,  "  that 
I  should  like  to  see  the  professor  at  once." 

"  It's  quite,  quite  impossible !  "  was  the 
nervous  reply.  "  He's  in  such  a  state  that  he's 
unable  to  see  any  one.  You  don't  know  how 
fractious  gout  makes  him." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Futvoye,"  said  Horace,  "  be- 
lieve me,  I  know  more  than  you  suppose." 

"  Yes,  mother  dear,"  put  in  Sylvia,  "  he 
knows  everything — really  everything.  And 
perhaps  it  might  do  dad  good  to  see  him." 

Mrs.  Futvoye  sank  helplessly  down  on  a 
settee.  "  Oh,  dear  me,"  she  said,  "  I  don't 
know  what  to  say — I  really  don't.  If  you  had 
seen  him  plunge  at  the  mere  suggestion  of  a 
doctor!  " 

Privately,  though  naturally  he  could  not  say 
so,  Horace  thought  a  vet  might  be  more  appro- 


214  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

priate,  but  eventually  lie  persuaded  Mrs.  Fut- 
voye  to  conduct  him  to  her  husband's  study. 

"  Anthony,  love,"  she  said,  as  she  knocked 
gently  at  the  door,  "  I've  brought  Horace  Venti- 
more  to  see  you  for  a  few  moments,  if  he  may." 

It  seemed,  from  the  sounds  of  furious  snort- 
ing and  stamping  within,  that  the  professor  re- 
sented this  intrusion  on  his  privacy. 

"  My  dear  Anthony,"  said  his  devoted  wife, 
as  she  unlocked  the  door  and  turned  the  key  on 
the  inside  after  admitting  Horace,  "  try  to  be 
calm.  Think  of  the  servants  downstairs.  Hor- 
ace is  so  anxious  to  help " 

As  for  Yentimore,  he  was  speechless,  so  in- 
expressibly shocked  was  he  by  the  alteration  in 
the  professor's  appearance.  He  had  never  seen 
a  mule  in  sorrier  condition  or  in  so  vicious  a 
temper.  Most  of  the  lighter  furniture  had  been 
already  reduced  to  match  wood;  the  glass  doors 
of  the  bookcase  were  starred  or  shivered;  pre- 
cious Egyptian  pottery  and  glass  were  strewn 
in  fragments  on  the  carpet ;  and  even  the  mum- 
my, though  it  smiled  with  the  same  enigmatic 
cheerfulness,  seemed  to  have  suffered  severely 
from  the  professorial  hoofs. 

Horace  instinctively  felt  that  any  words  of 
conventional  sympathy  would  jar  here;  indeed, 
the  professor's  attitude  and  expression  reminded 


THE  MESSENGER  OP  HOPE  215 

him  irresistibly  of  a  certain  "  Blondin  donkey  " 
he  had  seen  enacted  by  music-hall  artists  at 
the  stage  when  it  becomes  sullen  and  defiant. 
Only  he  had  laughed  helplessly  at  the  Blondin 
donkey,  and  somehow  he  felt  no  inclination  to 
laugh  now. 

"  Believe  me,  sir,"  he  began,  "  I  would  not 
disturb  you  like  this  unless —  Steady,  there! 
For  Heaven's  sake,  professor,  don't  kick  till 
you've  heard  me  out !  "  For  the  mule,  in  a 
clumsy,  shambling  way  which  betrayed  the  nov- 
ice, was  slowly  revolving  on  his  own  axis,  so  as 
to  bring  his  hind  quarters  into  action,  while  still 
keeping  his  only  serviceable  eye  upon  his  unwel- 
come visitor. 

"  Listen  to  me,  sir !  "  said  Horace,  manoeu- 
vring in  his  turn.  "  I'm  not  to  blame  for  this, 
and  if  you  brain  me,  as  you  seem  to  be  en- 
deavouring to  do,  you'll  simply  destroy  the 
only  living  man  who  can  get  you  out  of 
this." 

The  mule  appeared  impressed  by  this,  and 
backed  cumbrously  into  a  corner,  from  which 
he  regarded  Horace  with  a  mistrustful  but  at- 
tentive eye.  "  If,  as  I  imagine,  sir,"  continued 
Horace,  "  you  are,  though  temporarily  deprived 
of  speech,  perfectly  capable  of  following  an 
argument,  will  you  kindly  signify  it  by  raising 


216  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

your  right  ear? "  The  mule's  right  ear  rose 
with  a  sharp  twitch. 

"  Now  we  can  get  on,"  said  Horace.  "  First 
let  me  tell  you  that  I  repudiate  all  responsi- 
bility for  the  proceedings  of  that  infernal  Jin- 
nee. ...  I  wouldn't  stamp  like  that;  you  might 
go  through  the  floor,  you  know.  .  .  .  Now,  if 
you  will  only  exercise  a  little  patience " 

At  this  the  exasperated  animal  made  a  sud- 
den run  at  him  with  his  mouth  open,  which 
obliged  Horace  to  shelter  himself  behind  a  large 
leather  arm-chair.  "  You  really  must  keep  cool, 
sir,"  he  remonstrated ;  "  your  nerves  are  natu- 
rally upset.  If  I  might  suggest  a  little  cham- 
pagne —  You  could  manage  it  in — in  a  bucket, 
and  it  would  help  you  to  pull  yourself  together. 
A  whisk  of  your — er — tail  would  imply  con- 
sent." The  professor's  tail  instantly  swept  some 
rare  Arabian  glass  lamps  and  vases  from  a  shelf 
at  his  rear,  whereupon  Mrs.  Futvoye  went  out, 
and  returned  presently  with  a  bottle  of  cham- 
pagne and  a  large  china  jardiniere  as  the  best 
substitute  she  could  find  for  a  bucket. 

When  the  mule  had  drained  the  flower-pot 
greedily  and  appeared  refreshed,  Horace  pro- 
ceeded: 

"  I  have  every  hope,  sir,"  he  said,  "  that 
before  many  hours  you  will  be  smiling — pray 


THE  MESSENGER  OP  HOPE  217 

don't  prance  like  that;  I  mean  what  I  say — 
smiling  over  what  now  seems  to  you,  very 
justly,  a  most  annoying  and  serious  catastrophe. 
I  shall  speak  seriously  to  Fakrash  (the  Jinnee, 
you  know),  and  I  am  sure  that,  as  soon  as  he 
realizes  what  a  frightful  blunder  he  has  made, 
he  will  be  the  first  to  offer  you  every  reparation 
in  his  power.  For,  old  foozle  as  he  is,  he's  thor- 
oughly good  hearted." 

The  professor  drooped  his  ears  at  this,  and 
shook  his  head  with  a  doleful  incredulity  that 
made  him  look  more  like  the  pantomime  donkey 
than  ever. 

"  I  think  I  understand  him  fairly  well  by 
this  time,  sir,"  said  Horace,  "  and  I'll  answer  for 
it  that  there's  no  real  harm  in  him.  I  give  you 
my  word  of  honour  that,  if  you'll  only  remain 
quiet  and  leave  everything  to  me,  you  shall 
very  soon  be  released  from  this  absurd  position. 
That's  all  I  came  to  tell  you,  and  now  I  won't 
trouble  you  any  longer.  If  you  could  bring 
yourself,  as  a  sign  that  you  bear  me  no  ill-feel- 
ing, to  give  me  your — your  off  foreleg  at  part- 
ing, I " 

But  the  professor  turned  his  back  in  so 
pointed  and  ominous  a  manner  that  Horace 
judged  it  better  to  withdraw  without  insisting 
further.     "I'm  afraid,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Fut- 


218  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

voye,  after  they  had  rejoined  Sylvia  in  the 
drawing-room,  "  I'm  afraid  your  husband  is  still 
a  little  sore  with  me  about  this  miserable  busi- 
ness." 

"  I  don't  know  what  else  you  can  expect," 
replied  the  lady  rather  tartly.  "  He  can't  help 
feeling — as  we  all  must  and  do  after  what  you 
said  just  now — that,  but  for  you,  this  would 
never  have  happened." 

"  If  you  mean  it  was  all  through  my  attend- 
ing that  sale,"  said  Horace,  "  you  might  remem- 
ber that  I  only  went  there  at  the  professor's 
request.     You  know  that,  Sylvia." 

"  Yes,  Horace,"  said  Sylvia,  "  but  papa 
never  asked  you  to  buy  a  hideous  brass  bottle 
with  a  nasty  genius  in  it.  And  any  one  with 
ordinary  common  sense  would  have  kept  it  prop- 
erly corked." 

"  What,  you  against  me  too,  Sylvia?  "  cried 
Horace,  cut  to  the  quick. 

"No,  Horace,  never  against  you!  I  didn't 
mean  to  say  what  I  did,  only  it  is  such  a  relief 
to  put  the  blame  on  somebody.  I  know — I  know 
you  feel  it  almost  as  much  as  we  do.  But,  so 
long  as  poor  dear  papa  remains  as  he  is,  we  can 
never  be  anything  to  one  another.  You  must 
see  that,  Horace." 

"  Yes,  I  see  that,"  he  said.    "  But,  trust  me, 


THE  MESSENGER  OP  HOPE  219 

Sylvia;  lie  shall  not  remain  as  he  is.  I  swear 
he  shall  not !  In  another  day  or  two,  at  the  out- 
side, you  will  see  him  his  own  self  once  more. 
And  then —  Oh,  darling,  darling!  you  won't  let 
anything  or  anybody  separate  us?  Promise  me 
that!" 

He  would  have  held  her  in  his  arms,  but 
she  kept  him  at  a  distance.  "  When  papa  is 
himself  again,"  she  said,  "  I  shall  know  better 
what  to  say.  I  can't  promise  anything  now, 
Horace." 

Horace  recognised  that  no  appeal  would 
draw  a  more  definite  answer  from  her  just 
then,  so  he  took  his  leave,  with  the  feeling  that, 
after  all,  matters  must  improve  before  very 
long,  and  in  the  meantime  he  must  bear  the 
suspense  with  patience. 

He  got  through  dinner  as  well  as  he  could 
in  his  own  rooms,  for  he  did  not  like  to  go  to 
his  club  lest  the  Jinnee  should  suddenly  return 
during  his  absence. 

"  If  he  wants  me  he'd  be  quite  equal  to 
coming  on  to  the  club  after  me,"  he  reflected, 
"  for  he  has  about  as  much  sense  of  the  fitness 
of  things  as  Mary's  lamb.  I  shouldn't  care 
about  seeing  him  suddenly  bursting  through  the 
floor  of  the  smoking  room — nor  would  the  com- 
mittee." 

15 


220  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

He  sat  up  late,  in  the  hope  that  Fakrash 
would  appear;  but  the  Jinnee  made  no  sign, 
and  Horace  began  to  get  uneasy.  "  I  wish 
there  was  some  way  of  ringing  him  up,"  he 
thought.  "  If  he  were  only  the  slave  of  a  ring 
or  a  lamp,  I'd  rub  it,  but  it  wouldn't  be  any 
use  to  rub  that  bottle;  and  besides,  he  isn't  a 
slave.  Probably  he  has  a  suspicion  that  he  has 
not  exactly  distinguished  himself  over  his  latest 
feat,  and  thinks  it  prudent  to  keep  out  of  my 
way  for  the  present.  But  if  he  fancies  he'll 
make  things  any  better  for  himself  by  that  he'll 
find  himself  mistaken." 

It  was  maddening  to  think  of  the  unhappy 
professor  still  fretting  away  hour  after  hour  in 
the  uncongenial  form  of  a  mule,  waiting  im- 
patiently for  the  relief  that  never  came.  If  it 
lingered  much  longer,  he  might  actually  starve, 
unless  his  family  thought  of  getting  in  some 
oats  for  him,  and  he  could  be  prevailed  upon  to 
touch  them.  And  how  much  longer  could  they 
succeed  in  concealing  the  nature  of  his  afflic- 
tion? How  long  before  all  Kensington  and  the 
whole  civilized  world  knew  that  one  of  the  lead- 
ing Orientalists  in  Europe  was  restlessly  pranc- 
ing on  four  legs  around  his  study  in  Cottesmore 
Gardens? 

Hacked  by  speculations  such  as  these,  Yenti- 


THE  MESSENGER  OP  HOPE  221 

more  lay  awake  till  well  into  the  small  hours, 
when  he  dropped  off  into  troubled  dreams  that, 
wild  as  they  were,  could  not  be  more  grotesquely 
fantastic  than  the  realities  to  which  they  were 
the  alternative. 


CHAPTEK  XIH 

A    CHOICE     OF    EVILS 

Not  even  his  morning  tub  could  brace 
Ventimore's  spirits  to  their  usual  cheerfulness. 
After  sending  away  his  breakfast  almost  un- 
tasted,  he  stood  at  his  window,  looking  drearily 
out,  over  the  crude  green  turf  of  Vincent 
Square,  at  the  indigo  masses  of  the  Abbey  and 
the  Victoria  Tower,  and  the  huge  gasometers 
to  the  right  which  loomed  faintly  through  a 
dun-coloured  haze. 

He  felt  a  positive  loathing  for  his  office, 
to  which  he  had  gone  with  such  high  hopes 
and  enthusiasm  of  late.  There  was  no  work 
for  him  to  do  there  any  longer,  and  the 
sight  of  his  drawing  table  and  materials 
would,  he  knew,  be  intolerable  in  their  mute 
mockery. 

Nor  could  he  with  any  decency  present  him- 
self again  at  Cottesmore  Gardens  while  the  situ- 
ation still  remained  unchanged,  as  it  must  do 
until  he  had  seen  Fakrash. 
222 


A  CHOICE  OF  EVILS  223 

"When  would  the  Jinnee  return,  or — hor- 
rible suspicion — did  he  never  intend  to  return 
at  all? 

"  Fakrash,"  he  groaned  aloud,  "  you  carCt 
really  mean  to  leave  me  in  such  a  regular  deuce 
of  a  hole  as  this?  " 

"  At  thy  service !  "  said  a  well-known  voice 
behind  him,  and  he  turned  to  see  the  Jinnee 
standing,  smiling,  on  the  hearth  rug;  and  at  this 
accomplishment  of  his  dearest  desire  all  his  in- 
dignation surged  back. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are !  "  he  said  irritably. 
"  Where  on  earth  have  you  been  all  this 
time?" 

"  Nowhere  on  earth,"  was  the  bland  reply, 
"  but  in  the  regions  of  the  air,  seeking  to  pro- 
mote thy  welfare." 

"  If  you  have  been  as  brilliantly  successful 
up  there  as  you  have  been  down  here,"  retorted 
Horace,  "  I  have  much  to  thank  you  for." 

"  I  am  more  than  repaid,"  answered  the 
Jinnee,  who,  like  many  most  estimable  persons, 
was  almost  impervious  to  irony,  "  by  such  assur- 
ances of  thy  gratitude." 

"  I'm  not  grateful,"  said  Horace,  fuming. 
"  I'm  devilish  annoyed." 

"Well  hath  it  been  written,"  replied  the 
Jinnee : 


224  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

" '  Be  disregardful  of  thine  affairs,  and  commit  them  to 
the  course  of  Fate, 
For  often  a  thing  that  enrages  thee  may  eventually  be 
to  thee  pleasing.' " 

"  I  don't  see  the  remotest  chance  of  that  in 
my  case,"  said  Horace. 

"  Why  is  thy  countenance  thus  troubled, 
and  what  new  complaint  hast  thou  against 
me?" 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  turn- 
ing a  distinguished  and  perfectly  inoffensive 
scholar  into  a  wall-eyed  mule? "  Horace  burst 
out.  "  If  that  is  your  idea  of  a  practical 
joke " 

"  It  is  one  of  the  easiest  affairs  possible," 
said  the  Jinnee,  complacently  running  his  fin- 
gers through  the  thin  strands  of  his  beard.  "  I 
have  accomplished  such  transformations  on  sev- 
eral occasions." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self; that's  all.  The  question  is  now,  how  you 
propose  to  restore  him  again? " 

"  Far  from  undoing  be  that  which  is  accom- 
plished! "  was  the  sententious  answer. 

"  What !  "  cried  Horace,  hardly  believing 
his  ears.  "  You  surely  don't  mean  to  allow 
that  unhappy  professor  to  remain  like  that  for- 
ever, do  you?" 


A  CHOICE  OF  EVILS  225 

"  None  can  alter  what  is  predestined." 

"  Very  likely  not.  But  it  wasn't  decreed 
that  a  learned  man  should  be  suddenly  degraded 
to  a  beastly  mule  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  Des- 
tiny wouldn't  be  such  a  fool." 

"  Despise  not  mules,  for  they  are  useful 
and  valuable  animals  in  the  household." 

"  But,  confound  it  all,  have  you  no  imagina- 
tion? Can't  you  enter  at  all  into  the  feelings 
of  a  man — a  man  of  wide  learning  and  reputa- 
tion— suddenly  plunged  into  such  a  humiliating 
condition  ? " 

"  Upon  his  own  head  be  it,"  said  Fakrash 
coldly.  "  For  he  hath  brought  this  fate  upon 
himself." 

"  Well,  how  do  you  suppose  that  you  have 
helped  me  by  this  performance?  Will  it  make 
him  any  the  more  disposed  to  consent  to  my 
marrying  his  daughter?  Is  that  all  you  know 
of  the  world? " 

"  It  is  not  my  intention  that  thou  shouldst 
take  his  daughter  to  wife." 

"  Whether  you  approve  or  not,  it's  my  in- 
tention to  marry  her." 

"  Assuredly  she  will  not  marry  thee  so  long 
as  her  father  remaineth  a  mule." 

"  There  I  agree  with  you.  But  is  that  your 
notion  of  doing  me  a  good  turn  ? " 


226  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  I  did  not  consider  thy  interest  in  this 
matter." 

"  Then  will  you  be  good  enough  to  consider 
it  now?  I  have  pledged  my  word  that  he  shall 
be  restored  to  his  original  form.  Not  only  my 
happiness  is  at  stake,  but  my  honour." 

"  By  failure  to  perform  the  impossible  none 
can  lose  honour.  And  this  is  a  thing  that  can 
not  be  undone." 

"  Can  not  be  undone? "  repeated  Horace, 
feeling  a  cold  clutch  at  his  heart.     "  Why? " 

"  Because,"  said  the  Jinnee  sullenly,  "  I 
have  forgotten  the  way." 

"  Nonsense !  "  retorted  Horace.  "  I  don't 
believe  it.  Why,"  he  urged,  descending  to  flat- 
tery, "  you're  such  a  clever  old  Johnny — I  beg 
your  pardon,  I  meant  such  a  clever  old  Jinnee 
— you  can  do  anything,  if  you  only  give  your 
mind  to  it.  Just  look  at  the  way  you  changed 
this  house  back  again  to  what  it  was.  Marvel- 
lous! " 

"  That  was  the  veriest  trifle,"  said  Fakrash, 
though  he  was  obviously  pleased  by  this  tribute 
to  his  talent.  "  This  would  be  a  different  affair 
altogether." 

"  But  child's  play  to  you,"  insinuated  Hor- 
ace. "  Come,  you  know  very  well  you  can  do 
it  if  you  only  choose." 


A  CHOICE  OF  EVILS  227 

"  It  may  be  as  thou  sayest.  But  I  do  not 
choose." 

"  Then,  I  think,"  said  Horace,  "  that,  con- 
sidering the  obligations  you  admit  yourself  you 
are  under  to  me,  I  have  a  right  to  know  the 
reason — the  real  reason — why  you  refuse." 

"  Thy  claim  is  not  without  justice,"  an- 
swered the  Jinnee,  after  a  pause,  "  nor  can  I 
decline  to  gratify  thee." 

"That's  right!  "  cried  Horace.  "I  knew 
you'd  see  it  in  the  proper  light  when  it  was 
once  put  to  you.  Now  don't  lose  any  more 
time,  but  restore  that  unfortunate  man  at  once, 
as  you've  promised." 

"  Not  so,"  said  the  Jinnee.  "  I  promised 
thee  a  reason  for  my  refusal,  and  that  thou 
shalt  have.  Know  then,  O  my  son,  that  this 
indiscreet  one  had,  by  some  vile  and  unhallowed 
arts,  divined  the  hidden  meaning  of  what  was 
written  upon  the  seal  of  the  bottle  wherein  I 
was  confined,  and  was  preparing  to  reveal  the 
same  unto  all  men." 

"  What  would  it  matter  to  you  if  he  did?  " 

"  Much,  for  this  writing  contained  a  false 
and  lying  record  of  my  actions." 

"  If  it  is  all  lies  it  can't  do  you  any  harm. 
"Why  not  treat  them  with  the  contempt  they 
deserve? " 


228  THE  BEASS  BOTTLE 

"  They  are  not  all  lies,"  the  Jinnee  admitted 
reluctantly. 

"  Well,  never  mind.  Whatever  you've 
done,  you've  expiated  it  by  this  time." 

"  Now  that  Suleyman  is  no  more,  it  is  my 
desire  to  seek  out  my  kinsmen  of  the  Green 
Jinn  and  live  out  my  days  in  amity  and  honour. 
How  can  that  be  if  they  hear  my  name  exe- 
crated by  all  mortals? " 

"  Nobody  would  think  of  execrating  you 
about  an  affair  three  thousand  years  old.  It's 
too  stale  a  scandal." 

"  Thou  speakest  without  understanding.  I 
tell  thee  that  if  men  knew  but  the  half  of  my 
misdoings,"  said  Fakrash,  in  a  tone  not  alto- 
gether free  from  a  kind  of  sombre  complacency, 
"  the  noise  of  them  would  rise  even  unto  the 
uppermost  regions  and  scorn  and  loathing  would 
be  my  portion." 

"  Oh,  it's  not  so  bad  as  all  that,"  said  Hor- 
ace, who  had  a  private  impression  that  the  Jin- 
nee's "  past "  would  probably  turn  out  to  be 
chiefly  made  up  of  peccadilloes.  "  But,  any- 
way, I'm  sure  the  professor  will  readily  agree 
to  keep  silence  about  it,  and,  as  you  have  of 
course  got  the  seal  in  your  own  possession 
again " 

"  Nay,  the  seal  is  still  in  his  possession,  and 


A  CHOICE  OF  EVILS  229 

it  is  naught  to  me  where  it  is  deposited,"  said 
Fakrash,  "  since  the  only  mortal  who  hath  de- 
ciphered it  is  now  a  dumb  animal." 

"  Xot  at  all,"  said  Horace.  "  There  are  sev- 
eral friends  of  his  who  could  decipher  that  in- 
scription quite  as  easily  as  he  did." 

"  Is  this  the  truth?  "  said  the  Jinnee,  in 
visible  alarm. 

"Certainly,"  said  Horace.  "Within  the 
last  quarter  of  a  century  archaeology  has  made 
great  strides.  Our  learned  men  can  now  read 
Babylonian  bricks  and  Chaldean  tablets  as 
easily  as  if  they  were  advertisements  on  gal- 
vanized iron.  You  may  think  you've  been  ex- 
tremely clever  in  turning  the  professor  into  an 
animal,  but  you'll  probably  find  you've  only 
made  another  mistake." 

"  How  so?  "  inquired  Fakrash. 

"  Well,"  said  Horace,  seeing  his  advantage 
and  pushing  it  unscrupulously,  "  now  that,  in 
your  infinite  wisdom,  you  have  ordained  that 
he  should  be  a  mule,  he  naturally  can't  possess 
property.  Therefore,  all  his  effects  will  have 
to  be  sold,  and  among  them  will  be  that  seal 
of  yours,  which,  like  many  other  things  in  his 
collection,  will  probably  be  bought  up  by  the 
British  Museum,  where  it  will  be  examined 
and    commented    upon    by    every    Orientalist 


230  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

in  Europe.  I  suppose  you've  thought  of  all 
that?" 

"  O  young  man  of  marvellous  sagacity !  " 
said  the  Jinnee.  "  Truly  I  had  omitted  to  think 
of  these  things,  and  thou  hast  opened  my  eyes 
in  time.  For  I  will  present  myself  unto  this 
man-mule  and  adjure  him  to  reveal  where  he 
hath  bestowed  this  seal  so  that  I  may  regain  it." 

"  He  can't  do  that,  you  know,  so  long  as  he 
remains  a  mule." 

"  I  will  endow  him  with  speech  for  the  pur- 
pose." 

"  Let  me  tell  you  this,"  said  Horace.  "  He's 
in  a  very  nasty  temper  just  now,  naturally 
enough,  and  you  won't  get  anything  out  of  him 
until  you  have  restored  him  to  human  form.  If 
you  do  that,  he'll  agree  to  anything." 

"  Whether  I  restore  him  or  not  will  depend 
not  on  me,  but  on  the  damsel  who  is  his  daugh- 
ter, and  to  whom  thou  art  contracted  in  mar- 
riage.   For,  first  of  all,  I  must  speak  with  her." 

"  So  long  as  I  am  present,  and  you  promise 
not  to  play  any  tricks,"  said  Horace,  "  I've  no 
objection;  for,  I  believe,  if  you  once  saw  her 
and  heard  her  plead  for  her  poor  father,  you 
wouldn't  have  the  heart  to  hold  out  any  longer. 
But  you  must  give  me  your  word  that  you'll 
behave  yourself." 


A  CHOICE  OF  EVILS  231 

"  Thou  hast  it,"  said  the  Jinnee.  "  I  do 
but  desire  to  see  her  on  thine  account." 

"  Very  well,"  agreed  Horace,  "  but  I  really 
can't  introduce  you  in  that  turban;  she'd  be 
terrified.  Couldn't  you  contrive  to  get  your- 
self up  in  commonplace  English  clothes  just 
for  once — something  that  wouldn't  attract  so 
much  attention? " 

"  Will  this  satisfy  thee  ?  "  inquired  the  Jin- 
nee, as  his  green  turban  and  flowing  robes  sud- 
denly resolved  themselves  into  the  conventional 
chimney-pot  hat,  frock-coat,  and  trousers  of 
modern  civilization. 

He  bore  a  painful  resemblance  in  them  to 
the  kind  of  elderly  gentleman  who  comes  on  in 
the  harlequinade  to  be  bonneted  by  the  clown; 
but  Horace  was  in  no  mood  to  be  critical  just 
then. 

"  That's  better,"  he  said  encouragingly; 
"  much  better.  Now,"  he  added,  as  he  led  the 
way  to  the  hall  and  put  on  his  own  hat  and 
overcoat,  "  we'll  go  out  and  find  a  hansom, 
and  be  at  Kensington  in  less  than  twenty  min- 
utes." 

"  "We  shall  be  there  in  less  than  twenty 
seconds,"  said  the  Jinnee,  seizing  him  by  the 
arm  above  the  elbow,  and  Horace  found  him- 
self suddenly  carried  up  into  the  air  and  set 


232  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

down,  gasping  with  surprise  and  want  of  breath, 
on  the  pavement  opposite  the  Futvoyes'  door. 

"  I  should  just  like  to  observe,"  he  said,  as 
soon  as  he  could  speak,  "  that  if  we've  been 
seen  we  shall  probably  cause  a  sensation.  Lon- 
doners are  not  accustomed  to  seeing  people 
skimming  over  the  chimney-pots  like  amateur 
rooks." 

"  Trouble  not  for  that,"  said  Fakrash,  "  for 
no  mortal  eyes  are  capable  of  following  our 
flight." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Horace,  "  or  I  shall  lose 
any  reputation  I  have  left.^  I  think,"  he  added, 
"  I'd  better  go  in  alone  first  and  prepare  them, 
if  you  won't  mind  waiting  outside.  I'll  come 
to  the  window  and  wave  my  pocket  handker- 
chief when  they're  ready.  And  do  come  in  by 
the  door  like  an  ordinary  person,  and  ask  the 
maid-servant  if  you  may  see  me." 

"  I  will  bear  it  in  mind,"  answered  the  Jin- 
nee, and  suddenly  sank,  or  seemed  to  sink, 
through  a  chink  in  the  pavement. 

Horace,  after  ringing  at  the  Futvoyes'  door, 
was  admitted  and  shown  into  the  drawing-room, 
where  Sylvia  presently  came  to  him,  looking 
as  lovely  as  ever,  in  spite  of  the  pallor  due  to 
sleeplessness  and  anxiety. 

"It  is  kind  of  you  to  call  and  inquire,"  she 


A  CHOICE  OF  EVILS  233 

said,  with  the  unnatural  calm  of  suppressed  hys- 
teria. "  Dad  is  much  the  same  this  morning. 
He  had  a  fairly  good  night,  and  was  able  to 
take  part  of  a  carrot  for  breakfast,  but  I'm 
afraid  he's  just  remembered  that  he  has  to  read 
a  paper  on  Oriental  Occultism  before  the 
Asiatic  Society  this  evening,  and  it's  worrying 
him  a  little.  Oh,  Horace,"  she  broke  out  un- 
expectedly, "how  perfectly  awful  all  this  is! 
How  are  we  to  bear  it?  " 

"  Don't  give  way,  darling,"  said  Horace. 
"  You  will  not  have  to  bear  it  much  longer." 

"  It's  all  very  well,  Horace,  but  unless  some- 
thing is  done  soon  it  will  be  too  late.  We  can't 
go  on  keeping  a  mule  in  the  study  without  the 
servants  suspecting  something.  And  where  are 
we  to  put  poor  dear  papa?  It's  too  ghastly  to 
think  of  his  having  to  be  sent  away  to — to  a 
home  of  rest  for  horses,  and  yet  what  is  to  be 
done  with  him?  .  .  .  Why  do  you  come  if  you 
can't  do  anything?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  be  here  unless  I  could  bring 
you  good  news.  You  remember  what  I  told  you 
about  the  Jinnee  ?  " 

"  Remember !  "  cried  Sylvia.  "  As  if  I 
could  forget!  Has  he  really  come  back,  Hor- 
ace?" 

"  Yes.    I  think  I  have  brought  him  to  see 


234  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

that  lie  has  made  a  foolish  mistake  in  enchant- 
ing your  unfortunate  father,  and  he  seems  will- 
ing to  undo  it  on  certain  conditions.  He  is 
somewhere  within  call  at  this  moment,  and  will 
come  in  whenever  I  give  the  signal.  But  he 
wishes  to  speak  to  you  first." 

"  To  me  ?  Oh,  no,  Horace !  "  exclaimed 
Sylvia,  recoiling.  "  I'd  so  much  rather  not. 
I  don't  like  things  that  have  come  out  of  brass 
bottles.  I  shouldn't  know  what  to  say,  and  it 
would  frighten  me  horribly." 

"  You  must  be  brave,  darling,"  said  Horace. 
"  Remember  that  it  depends  on  you  whether 
the  professor  is  to  be  restored  or  not.  And 
there's  nothing  alarming  about  old  Fakrash, 
either.  I've  got  him  to  put  on  ordinary  things, 
and  he  really  doesn't  look  so  bad  in  them.  He's 
quite  a  mild,  amiable  old  noodle,  and  he'll  do 
anything  for  you  if  you'll  only  stroke  him  down 
the  right  way.  You  will  see  him,  won't  you, 
for  your  father's  sake  ?  " 

"  If  I  must,"  said  Sylvia,  with  a  shudder. 
"  I — I'll  be  as  nice  to  him  as  I  can." 

Horace  went  to  the  window  and  gave  the 
signal,  though  there  was  no  one  in  sight.  How- 
ever, it  was  evidently  seen,  for  the  next  moment 
there  was  a  resounding  blow  at  the  front  door, 
and  a  little  later  Jessie,  the  parlour  maid,  an- 


A  CHOICE  OF  EVILS  235 

nounced,  "  Mr.  Fatrasher  Larmash — to  see  Mr. 
Yentimore,"  and  the  Jinnee  stalked  gravely  in 
with  his  tall  hat  on  his  head. 

"  You  are  probably  not  aware  of  it,  sir," 
said  Horace,  "  but  it  is  the  custom  here  to  un- 
cover in  the  presence  of  a  lady."  The  Jinnee 
removed  his  hat  with  both  hands  and  stood, 
silent  and  impassive. 

"  Let  me  present  you  to  Miss  Sylvia  Fut- 
voye,"  Yentimore  continued,  "  the  lady  whose 
name  you  have  already  heard." 

There  was  a  momentary  gleam  in  Fakrash's 
odd,  slanting  eyes  as  they  lighted  on  Sylvia's 
shrinking  figure,  but  he  made  no  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  introduction. 

"  The  damsel  is  not  without  comeliness,"  he 
remarked  to  Horace,  "  but  there  are  lovelier 
far  than  she." 

"  I  didn't  ask  you  for  either  criticisms  or 
comparisons,"  said  Yentimore  sharply.  "  There 
is  nobody  in  the  world  equal  to  Miss  Futvoye, 
in  my  opinion,  and  you  will  be  good  enough  to 
remember  that  fact.  She  is  exceedingly  dis- 
tressed— as  any  dutiful  daughter  would  be — by 
the  cruel  and  senseless  trick  you  have  played 
her  father,  and  she  begs  that  you  will  rectify 
it  at  once.    Don't  you,  Sylvia?  " 

"  Yes,   indeed,"   said   Sylvia,   almost  in   a 
16 


236  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

whisper,  "  if — if  it  isn't  troubling  you  too 
much." 

"  I  have  been  turning  over  thy  words  in  my 
mind,"  said  Fakrash,  still  ignoring  Sylvia, 
"  and  I  am  convinced  that  thou  art  right.  Even 
if  the  contents  of  the  seal  were  known  of  all 
men,  they  would  raise  no  clamour  about  affairs 
that  concern  them  not;  therefore,  it  is  nothing 
to  me  in  whose  hands  the  seal  may  be.  Dost 
thou  not  agree  with  me  in  this?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Horace.  "  And  it 
naturally  follows  that " 

"  It  naturally  follows — as  thou  sayest — " 
said  the  Jinnee,  with  a  cunning  assumption  of  in- 
difference, "  that  I  have  naught  to  gain  by 
demanding  back  the  seal  as  the  price  of  re- 
storing this  damsel's  father  to  his  original 
form.  Wherefore,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
let  him  remain  a  mule  forever,  unless,  in- 
deed, thou  art  ready  to  comply  with  my  condi- 
tions." 

"  Conditions !  "  cried  Horace,  utterly  unpre- 
pared for  this  conclusion.  "  What  can  you  pos- 
sibly want  from  me?  But  state  them.  I'll 
agree  to  anything,  in  reason." 

"  I  demand  that  thou  shouldst  renounce  the 
hand  of  this  damsel." 

"That's  out  of  all  reason,"  said  Horace, 


A  CHOICE  OF  EVILS  237 

"  and  you  know  it.  I  will  never  give  her  up, 
so  long  as  she  is  willing  to  keep  me." 

"  Maiden,"  said  the  Jinnee,  addressing  Syl- 
via for  the  first  time,  "  the  matter  rests  with 
thee.  Wilt  thou  release  this,  my  son,  from  his 
contract,  since  thou  art  no  fit  wife  for  such  as 
he?" 

"  How  can  I,"  cried  Sylvia,  "  when  I 
love  him  and  he  loves  me?  What  a  wicked, 
tyrannical  old  thing  you  must  be  to  expect  it! 
I  can't  give  him  up." 

"  It  is  but  giving  up  what  can  never  be 
thine,"  said  Fakrash.  "  And  be  not  anxious 
for  him,  for  I  will  reward  and  console  him  a 
thousand-fold  for  the  loss  of  thy  society.  A 
little  while,  and  he  shall  remember  thee  no 
more." 

"  Don't  believe  him,  darling,"  said  Horace. 
"  You  know  me  better  than  that." 

"  Remember,"  said  the  Jinnee,  "  that  by 
thy  refusal  thou  wilt  condemn  thy  parent  to  re- 
main a  mule  throughout  all  his  days.  Art  thou 
so  unnatural  and  hard-hearted  a  daughter  as  to 
do  this  thing? " 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't!  "  cried  Sylvia.  "  I  can't 
let  poor  father  remain  a  mule  all  his  life  when 
one  word — and  yet  what  am  I  to  do?  Horace, 
what  shall  I  say?    Advise  me  .  .  .  advise  me!" 


238  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  Heaven  help  us  both !  "  groaned  Venti- 
more.  "  If  I  could  only  see  the  right  thing 
to  do.  Look  here,  Mr.  Fakrash,"  he  added, 
"  this  is  a  matter  that  requires  consideration. 
Will  you  relieve  us  of  your  presence  for  &  short 
time  while  we  talk  it  over?  " 

"  "With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  Jinnee,  in  the 
most  obliging  manner  in  the  world,  and  van- 
ished instantly. 

"  Now,  darling,"  began  Horace,  after  he 
had  gone,  "  if  that  unspeakable  old  scoundrel 
is  really  in  earnest,  there's  no  denying  that  he's 
got  us  in  an  extremely  tight  place.  But  I  can't 
bring  myself  to  believe  that  he  does  mean  it. 
I  fancy  he's  only  trying  us.  And  what  I  want 
you  to  do  is  not  to  consider  me  in  the  matter 
at  all." 

"  How  can  I  help  it? "  said  poor  Sylvia. 
"  Horace,  you — you  don't  want  to  be  released, 
do  you? " 

"I!  "  said  Horace.  "When  you  are  all  I 
have  in  the  world!  That's  so  likely,  Sylvia. 
But  we  are  bound  to  look  facts  in  the  face.  To 
begin  with,  even  if  this  hadn't  happened,  your 
people  wouldn't  let  our  engagement  continue. 
For  my  prospects  have  changed  again,  dearest. 
I'm  even  worse  off  than  when  we  first  met,  for 
that  confounded  Jinnee  has  contrived  to  lose 


A  CHOICE  OF  EVILS  239 

my  first  and  only  client  for  me — the  one  thing 
worth  having  he  ever  gave  me !  "  And  he  told 
her  the  story  of  the  mushroom  palace  and  Mr. 
Wackerbath's  withdrawal.  "  So  you  see,  dar- 
ling," he  concluded,  "  I  haven't  even  a  home  to 
offer  you;  and  if  I  had,  it  would  be  miserably 
uncomfortable  for  you,  with  that  old  marplot 
continually  dropping  in  on  us,  especially  if — as 
I'm  afraid  he  has — he's  taken  some  unreason- 
able dislike  to  you." 

"  But  surely  you  can  talk  him  over? "  said 
Sylvia.  "  You  said  you  could  do  anything  you 
liked  with  him." 

"  I'm  beginning  to  find,"  he  replied,  rue- 
fully enough,  "  that  he's  not  so  easily  managed 
as  I  thought.  And  for  the  present,  I'm  afraid, 
if  we  are  to  get  the  professor  out  of  this,  that 
there's  nothing  for  it  but  to  humour  old  Fak- 
rash." 

"  Then  you  actually  advise  me  to — to  break 
it  off?  "  she  cried.  "  I  never  thought  you  would 
do  that." 

"  For  your  own  sake,"  said  Horace.  "  For 
your  father's  sake.  If  you  won't,  Sylvia,  I 
must.  And  you  will  spare  me  that?  Let  us 
both  agree  to  part,  and — and  trust  that  we  shall 
be  united  some  day." 

"  Don't  try  to  deceive  me  or  yourself,  Hor- 


240  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

ace,"  she  said.  "  If  we  part  now,  it  will  be  for- 
ever." 

He  had  a  dismal  conviction  that  she  was 
right.  "  We  must  hope  for  the  best,"  he  said 
drearily.  "  Fakrash  may  have  some  motive  in 
all  this  we  don't  understand.  Or  he  may  relent. 
But  part  we  must — for  the  present." 

"  Very  well,"  she  said.  "  If  he  restores  dad 
I  will  give  you  up.    But  not  unless." 

"  Hath  the  damsel  decided?  "  asked  the  Jin- 
nee, suddenly  reappearing.  "  For  the  period  of 
deliberation  is  past." 

"  Miss  Futvoye  and  I,"  Horace  answered 
for  her,  "  are  willing  to  consider  our  engage- 
ment at  an  end  until  you  approve  of  its  re- 
newal, on  condition  that  you  restore  her  father 
at  once." 

"  Agreed !  "  said  Fakrash.  "  Conduct  me  to 
him,  and  we  will  arrange  the  matter  without 
delay.". 

Outside  they  met  Mrs.  Futvoye  on  her  way 
from  the  study.  "  You  here,  Horace?  "  she  ex- 
claimed.    "  And  who  is  this — gentleman?  " 

"  This,"  said  Horace,  "  is  the — er — author 
of  the  professor's  misfortunes,  and  he  has  come 
here  at  my  request  to  undo  his  work." 

"  It  would  be  so  kind  of  him !  "  exclaimed 
the  distressed  lady,  who  was  by  this  time  far 


A  CHOICE  OF  EVILS  241 

beyond  either  surprise  or  resentment.  "  I'm 
sure  if  he  knew  all  we  have  gone  through — " 
and  she  led  the  way  to  her  husband's  room. 

As  soon  as  the  door  was  opened  the  profess- 
or seemed  to  recognise  his  tormentor,  in  spite  of 
his  changed  raiment,  and  was  so  powerfully  agi- 
tated that  he  actually  reeled  on  his  four  legs, 
and  "  stood  over  "  in  a  lamentable  fashion. 

"  O  man  of  distinguished  attainments," 
began  the  Jinnee,  "  whom  I  have  caused,  for 
reasons  that  are  known  to  thee,  to  assume  the 
shape  of  a  mule,  speak,  I  adjure  thee,  and  tell 
me  where  thou  hast  deposited  the  inscribed  seal 
which  is  in  thy  possession !  " 

The  professor  spoke,  and  the  effect  of  articu- 
late speech  proceeding  from  the  mouth  of  what 
was,  to  all  outward  seeming,  an  ordinary  mule 
was  strange  beyond  description.  "  I'll  see  you 
damned  first !  "  he  said  sullenly.  "  You  can't 
do  worse  to  me  than  you've  done  already." 

"  As  thou  wilt,"  said  Fakrash.  "  But,  unless 
I  regain  it,  I  will  not  restore  thee  to  what  thou 
wert." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  mule  savagely, 
"  you'll  find  it  in  the  top  right-hand  drawer  of 
my  writing  table ;  the  key  is  in  that  diorite  bowl 
on  the  mantelpiece." 

The  Jinnee  unlocked  the  drawer,  and  took 


242  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

out  the  metal  cap,  which  he  placed  in  the  breast 
pocket  of  his  incongruous  frock-coat.  "  So  far, 
well,"  he  said.  "  Next  thou  must  deliver  up  to 
me  the  transcription  thou  hast  made  and  swear 
to  preserve  an  inviolable  secrecy  regarding  the 
meaning  thereof." 

"  Do  you  know  what  you're  asking,  sir? " 
said  the  mule,  laying  back  his  ears  viciously. 
"  Do  you  think  that,  to  oblige  you,  I'm  going  to 
suppress  one  of  the  most  remarkable  discoveries 
of  my  whole  scientific  career?  Never,  sir; 
never !  " 

"  Since,  if  thou  refusest,  I  shall  assuredly 
deprive  thee  of  speech  once  more  and  leave  thee 
a  mule,  as  thou  art  now,  of  hideous  appearance," 
said  the  Jinnee,  "  thou  art  like  to  gain  little 
by  a  discovery  which  thou  wilt  be  unable  to  im- 
part.   However,  the  choice  rests  with  thee." 

The  mule  rolled  his  one  eye  and  showed  all 
his  teeth  in  a  vicious  snarl.  "  You've  got  the 
whip-hand  of  me,"  he  said,  "  and  I  may  as  well 
give  in.  There's  a  transcript  inside  my  blotting- 
case — it's  the  only  copy  I've  made." 

Fakrash  found  the  paper,  which  he  rubbed 
into  invisibility  between  his  palms,  as  any  ordi- 
nary conjurer  might  do. 

"  Now  raise  thy  right  fore-foot,"  he  said, 
"  and  swear  by  all  thou  holdest  sacred  never  to 


A  CHOICE  OP  EVILS  243 

divulge  what  thou  hast  learned."  Which  oath 
the  professor,  in  the  vilest  of  tempers,  took 
clumsily  enough. 

"  Good,"  said  the  Jinnee,  with  a  grim  smile. 
"  Now  let  one  of  thy  women  bring  me  a  cup  of 
fair  water." 

Sylvia  went  out,  and  came  back  with  a  cup 
of  water.  "  It's  filtered,"  she  said  anxiously. 
"  I  don't  know  if  that  will  do." 

"  It  will  suffice,"  said  Fakrash.  "  Let  both 
the  women  withdraw." 

"  Surely,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Futvoye, 
"  you  don't  mean  to  turn  his  wife  and  daughter 
out  of  the  room  at  such  a  moment  as  this?  We 
shall  be  perfectly  quiet,  and  we  may  even  be 
of  some  help." 

"  Do  as  you're  told,  my  dear!  "  snapped  the 
ungrateful  mule.  "  Do  as  you're  told.  You'll 
only  be  in  the  way  here.  Do  you  suppose  he 
doesn't  know  his  own  beastly  business? " 

They  left  accordingly;  whereupon  Fakrash 
took  the  cup — an  ordinary  breakfast  cup  with 
a  Greek  key-border  pattern  in  pale  blue  round 
the  top — and,  drenching  the  mule  with  the  con- 
tents, exclaimed:  "  Quit  this  form  and  return 
to  the  form  in  which  thou  wert!  " 

For  a  dreadful  moment  or  two  it  seemed  as 
if  no  effect  was  to  be  produced;  the  animal 


244  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

simply  stood  and  shivered,  and  Ventimore  began 
to  feel  an  agonizing  suspicion  that  the  Jinnee 
really  had,  as  he  had  first  asserted,  forgotten 
how  to  perform  this  particular  incantation. 

All  at  once  the  mule  reared,  and  began  to 
beat  the  air  frantically  with  his  fore-hoofs ;  after 
which  he  fell  heavily  backward  into  the  nearest 
arm-chair  (which  was  fortunately  a  solid  and 
capacious  piece  of  furniture)  with  his  fore-legs 
hanging  limply  at  his  side  in  a  semi-human 
fashion.  There  was  a  brief  convulsion,  and 
then,  by  some  gradual  process  unspeakably  im- 
pressive to  witness,  the  man  seemed  to  break 
through  the  mule,  the  mule  became  merged  in 
the  man,  and  Professor  Futvoye,  restored  to 
his  own  natural  form  and  habit,  sat  gasping  and 
trembling  in  the  chair  before  them. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"  since  there's  no  help,  come,  let  us  kiss  and 

PABT  " 

As  soon  as  the  professor  seemed  to  have  re- 
gained his  faculties,  Horace  opened  the  door 
and  called  in  Sylvia  and  her  mother,  who  were, 
as  was  only  to  be  expected,  overcome  with  joy 
on  seeing  the  head  of  the  family  released  from 
his  ignoble  condition  as  a  singularly  ill-favoured 
quadruped. 

"  There,  there,"  said  the  professor,  as  he 
submitted  to  their  embraces  and  incoherent  con- 
gratulations, "  it's  nothing  to  make  a  fuss  about. 
I'm  quite  myself  again,  as  you  can  see.  And," 
he  added,  with  an  unreasonable  outburst  of  ill- 
temper,  "  if  one  of  you  had  only  had  the  com- 
mon sense  to  think  of  such  a  simple  remedy  as 
sprinkling  a  little  cold  water  over  me  when  I 
was  first — taken  like  that,  I  should  have  been 
spared  a  great  deal  of  unnecessary  inconven- 
ience.    But  that's  always  the  way  with  women 

— lose  their  heads  the  moment  anything  goes 

245 


246  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

wrong.  If  I  had  not  kept  perfectly  cool  my- 
self  " 

"  It  was  very  stupid  of  us  not  to  think  of 
it,  papa,"  said  Sylvia,  tactfully  ignoring  the 
fact  that  there  was  scarcely  an  undamaged  arti- 
cle in  the  room.  "  Still,  you  know,  if  we  had 
thrown  the  water,  it  might  not  have  had  the 
same  effect." 

"  I'm  not  in  a  condition  to  argue  now,"  said 
her  father.  "  You  didn't  trouble  to  try  it,  and 
there's  no  more  to  be  said." 

"  No  more  to  be  said !  "  exclaimed  Fakrash. 
"  O  thou  monster  of  ingratitude,  hast  thou  no 
thanks  for  him  who  hath  delivered  thee  from 
thy  predicament? " 

"As  I  am  already  indebted  to  you,  sir," 
said  the  professor,  "  for  about  twenty-four 
hours  of  the  most  poignant  and  humiliating 
mental  and  bodily  anguish  a  human  being  can 
endure,  inflicted  for  no  valid  reason  that  I 
can  discover  except  the  wanton  indulgence 
of  your  unholy  powers,  I  can  only  say  that 
any  gratitude  of  which  I  am  conscious  is  of 
a  very  qualified  description.  As  for  you, 
Ventimore,"  he  added,  turning  to  Horace, 
"  I  don't  know — I  can  only  guess  at — the  part 
you  have  played  in  this  wretched  business; 
but,  in  any  case,  you  will  understand,   once 


"COME,  LET  US  KISS  AND   PART"       247 

for   all,    that   all   relations   between   us   must 
cease." 

"  Papa,"  said  Sylvia  tremulously,  "  Horace 
and  I  have  already  agreed  that — that  we  must 
separate." 

"  At  my  bidding,"  explained  Fakrash  suave- 
ly. "  For  such  an  alliance  would  be  totally  un- 
worthy of  his  merits  and  condition." 

This  frankness  was  rather  too  much  for  the 
professor,  whose  temper  had  not  been  improved 
by  his  recent  trials.  "  Nobody  asked  for  your 
opinion,  sir !  "  he  snapped.  "  A  person  who  has 
only  recently  been  released  from  a  term  of  long 
and,  from  all  I  have  been  able  to  ascertain,  well- 
deserved  imprisonment  is  scarcely  entitled  to 
pose  as  an  authority  on  social  rank.  Have  the 
decency  not  to  interfere  again  with  my  do- 
mestic affairs." 

"  Excellent  is  the  saying,"  remarked  the  im- 
perturbable Jinnee,  "  '  Let  the  rat  that  is  be- 
tween the  paws  of  the  leopard  observe  rigidly 
all  the  rules  of  politeness  and  refrain  from 
words  of  provocation.'  For  to  return  thee  to 
the  form  of  a  mule  once  more  would  be  no  diffi- 
cult undertaking." 

"  I  think  I  failed  to  make  myself  clear," 
the  professor  hastened  to  observe,  "  failed  to 
make  myself  clear.    I — I  merely  meant  to  con- 


248  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

gratulate  you  on  your  fortunate  escape  from  the 
consequences  of  what  I — I  don't  doubt  was  an 
error  of  justice.  I — I  am  sure  that  in  the  future 
you  will  employ  your — your  very  remarkable 
abilities  to  better  purpose,  and  I  would  suggest 
that  the  greatest  service  you  can  do  this  un- 
fortunate young  man  here  is  to  abstain  from  any 
further  attempts  to  promote  his  interests." 

"  Hear,  hear !  "  Horace  could  not  help 
throwing  in,  though  in  so  discreet  an  undertone 
that  it  was  inaudible. 

"  Far  be  this  from  me,"  replied  Fakrash. 
"  For  he  has  become  unto  me  even  as  a  favour- 
ite son,  whom  I  design  to  place  upon  the  golden 
pinnacle  of  felicity.  Therefore  I  have  chosen 
for  him  a  wife  who  is  unto  this  damsel  of  thine 
as  the  full  moon  to  the  glow-worm,  and  as  the 
bird  of  paradise  to  an  unfledged  sparrow.  And 
the  nuptials  shall  be  celebrated  before  many 
hours." 

"  Horace !  "  cried  Sylvia,  justly  incensed. 
"  Why — why  didn't  you  tell  me  this  before  ?  " 

"  Because,"  said  the  unhappy  Horace,  "  this 
is  the  very  first  Fve  heard  of  it.  He's  always 
springing  some  fresh  surprise  on  me,"  he  added, 
in  a  whisper,  "  but  they  never  come  to  anything 
much.  And  he  can't  marry  me  against  my  will, 
you  know." 


"COME,  LET  US  KISS  AND  PART"        249 

"  No,"  said  Sylvia,  biting  her  lip.  "  I  never 
supposed  lie  could  do  that,  Horace." 

"  I'll  settle  this  at  once,"  he  replied.  "  Now 
look  here,  Mr.  Jinnee,"  he  added.  "  I  don't 
know  what  new  scheme  you  have  got  in  your 
head,  but  if  you  are  proposing  to  marry  me  to 
anybody  in  particular " 

"  Have  I  not  informed  thee  that  I  have  it 
in  contemplation  to  obtain  for  thee  the  hand  of 
a  king's  daughter  of  marvellous  beauty  and  ac- 
complishments? " 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  you  never  men- 
tioned it  before,"  said  Horace,  while  Sylvia 
gave  a  little  low  cry. 

"  Repine  not,  O  damsel,"  counselled  the 
Jinnee,  "  since  it  is  for  his  welfare.  For, 
though  as  yet  he  believeth  it  not,  when  he  be- 
holds the  resplendent  beauty  of  her  counte- 
nance he  will  swoon  away  with  delight  and 
forget  thy  very  existence." 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort !  "  said  Hor- 
ace savagely.  "  Just  understand  that  I  don't 
intend  to  marry  any  princess.  You  may  pre- 
vent me — in  fact  you  have — from  marrying  this 
lady,  but  you  can't  force  me  to  marry  anybody 
else.    I  defy  you !  " 

"  "When  thou  hast  seen  thy  bride's  perfec- 
tions thou  wilt  need  no  compulsion,"  said  Fak- 


250  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

rash.  "  And  if  thou  shouldst  refuse,  know  this: 
that  thou  wilt  be  exposing  those  who  are  dear 
to  thee  in  the  household  to  calamities  of  the 
most  unfortunate  description." 

The  awful  vagueness  of  this  threat  com- 
pletely crushed  Horace;  he  could  not  think,  he 
did  not  even  dare  to  imagine,  what  conse- 
quences he  might  bring  upon  his  beloved  Syl- 
via and  her  helpless  parents  by  persisting  in  his 
refusal.  "  Give  me  time,"  he  said  heavily. 
"  I  want  to  talk  this  over  with  you." 

"  Pardon  me,  Ventimore,"  said  the  profess- 
or, with  acidulous  politeness,  "  but,  interesting 
as  the  discussion  of  your  matrimonial  arrange- 
ments is  to  you  and  your — protector,  I  should 
greatly  prefer  that  you  chose  some  more  fitting 
place  for  arriving  at  a  decision  which  is,  in  the 
circumstances,  a  foregone  conclusion.  I  am 
rather  tired  and  upset,  and  I  should  be  obliged 
if  you  and  this  gentleman  could  bring  this  most 
trying  interview  to  a  close  as  soon  as  you  con- 
veniently can." 

"  You  hear,  Mr.  Fakrash? "  said  Horace 
between  his  teeth.  "  It  is  quite  time  we 
left.  If  you  go  at  once,  I  will  follow  you  very 
shortly." 

"  Thou  wilt  find  me  awaiting  thee,"  an- 
swered the  Jinnee,  and,  to  Mrs.  Futvoye's  and 


"COME,  LET  US  KISS  AND  PART"       251 

Sylvia's  alarm,  disappeared  through  one  of  the 
bookcases. 

"  Well,"  said  Horace  gloomily,  "  you  see 
how  I'm  situated?  That  obstinate  old  devil  has 
cornered  me.  I'm  done  for." 
»  "  Don't  say  that,"  said  the  professor.  "  You 
appear  to  be  on  the  eve  of  a  most  brilliant  alli- 
ance, in  which  I  am  sure  you  have  our  best 
wishes — all  our  best  wishes,"  he  added  point- 
edly. 

"  Sylvia,"  said  Horace,  still  lingering,  "  be- 
fore I  go  tell  me  that,  whatever  I  may  have  to 
do,  you  will  understand  that — that  it  will  be 
for  your  sake." 

"  Please  don't  talk  like  that,"  she  said. 
"  We  may  never  see  one  another  again.  Don't 
let  my  last  recollection  of  you  be  of — of  a 
hypocrite,  Horace." 

"  A  hypocrite  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Sylvia,  this  is 
too  much.  What  have  I  said  or  done  to  make 
you  think  me  that?  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  so  simple  as  you  suppose, 

Horace,"  she  replied.    "  I  see  now  why  all  this 

has  happened;  why  poor  dad  was  tormented; 

why  you  insisted  on  my  setting  you  free.    But  I 

would  have  released  you  without  that.    Indeed, 

all  this  elaborate  artifice  wasn't  in  the  least 

necessary." 
17 


252  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  You  believe  I  was  an  accomplice  in  that 
old  fool's  plot? "  he  said.  "  You  believe  me 
such  a  cur  as  that?  " 

"  I  don't  blame  you,"  she  said.  "  I  don't 
believe  you  could  help  yourself.  He  can  make 
you  do  whatever  he  chooses.  And  then  you  are 
so  rich  now  it  is  natural  that  you  should  want 
to  marry  some  one — some  one  more  suited  to 
you — like  this  lovely  princess  of  yours." 

"  Of  mine!  "  groaned  the  exasperated  Hor- 
ace. "  When  I  tell  you  I've  never  even  seen 
her.  As  if  any  princess  in  the  world  would 
marry  me  to  please  a  Jinnee  out  of  a  brass 
bottle!  And  if  she  did,  Sylvia,  you  can't  be- 
lieve that  any  princess  would  make  me  forget 
you? " 

"  It  depends  so  very  much  on  the  princess," 
was  all  Sylvia  could  be  induced  to  say. 

"  Well,"  said  Horace,  "  if  that's  all  the  faith 
you  have  in  me,  I  suppose  it's  useless  to  say 
any  more.  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Futvoye;  good-bye, 
professor.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  how  deeply 
I  regret  all  the  trouble  I  have  brought  on  you 
by  my  own  folly.  All  I  can  say  is  that  I  will 
bear  anything  in  future  rather  than  expose  you 
or  any  of  you  to  the  smallest  risk." 

"  I  trust,  indeed,"  said  the  professor  stiffly, 
"  that  you  will  use  all  the  influence  at  your  com- 


"COME,  LET  US  KISS  AND  PART"       253 

mand  to  secure  me  from  any  repetition  of  an 
experience  that  might  well  have  unmanned  a 
less  equable  temperament  than  my  own." 

"  Good-bye,  Horace,"  said  Mrs.  Futvoye, 
more  kindly.  "  I  believe  you  are  more  to  be 
pitied  than  blamed,  whatever  others  may  think. 
And  /  don't  forget — if  Anthony  does — that,  but 
for  you,  he  might,  instead  of  sitting  there  com- 
fortably in  his  arm-chair,  be  lashing  out  with 
his  hind  legs  and  kicking  everything  to  pieces 
at  this  very  moment." 

"  I  deny  that  I  lashed  out,"  said  the  profess- 
or. "  My — ah — hind  quarters  may  have  been 
under  imperfect  control,  but  I  never  lost  my 
reasoning  powers  or  my  good  humour  for  a 
single  instant.     I  can  say  that  truthfully." 

If  the  professor  could  say  that  truthfully 
amid  the  general  wreck  in  which  he  sat,  like 
another  Marius,  he  had  little  to  learn  in  the 
gentle  art  of  self-deception,  but  there  was  noth- 
ing to  gain  by  contradicting  him  then. 

"  Good-bye,  Sylvia,"  said  Horace,  and  held 
out  his  hand. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said,  without  offering  to 
take  it  or  look  at  him,  and,  after  a  miserable 
pause,  he  left  the  study.  But  before  he  had 
reached  the  front  door  he  heard  a  swish  and 
swirl  of  drapery  behind  him,  and  felt  her  light 


254  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

hand  on  his  arm.  "  Ah,  no!  "  she  said,  clinging 
to  him.  "  I  can't  let  you  go  like  this.  ...  I 
didn't  mean  all  the  things  I  said  just  now.  .  .  . 
I  do  believe  in  you,  Horace — at  least  I'll  try 
hard  to.  .  .  .  And  I  shall  always,  always  love 
you,  Horace.  ...  I  shan't  care — very  much — 
even  if  you  forget  me,  so  long  as  you  are  happy. 
.  .  .  Only  don't  be  too  happy.  .  .  .  Think  of 
me  sometimes." 

"  I  shall  not  be  too  happy,"  he  said,  as  he 
held  her  close  to  his  heart  and  kissed  her  pa- 
thetically drawn  mouth  and  flushed  cheeks. 
"  And  I  shall  think  of  you  always." 

"  And  you  won't  fall  in  love  with  your  prin- 
cess? "  entreated  Sylvia,  at  the  end  of  her  altru- 
ism.   "  Promise !  " 

"  If  I  am  ever  provided  with  one,"  he  re- 
plied, "  I  shall  loathe  her — for  not  being  you. 
But  don't  let  us  lose  heart,  darling.  There 
must  be  some  way  of  talking  that  old  idiot  out 
of  this  nonsense  and  bringing  him  round  to  com- 
mon sense.    I'm  not  going  to  give  in  just  yet!  " 

These  were  brave  words,  but,  as  they  both 
felt,  the  situation  had  little  enough  to  warrant 
them,  and,  after  one  last  long  embrace,  they 
parted,  and  he  was  no  sooner  on  the  steps  than 
he  felt  himself  caught  up  as  before  and  borne 
through  the  air  with  breathless  speed,  till  he 


"COME,  LET  US  KISS  AND  PART"       255 

was  set  down,  he  could  not  have  said  how,  in 
a  chair  in  his  own  sitting-room  at  Vincent 
Square. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  Jinnee,  who 
was  standing  opposite  with  a  smile  of  intolerable 
complacency,  "  I  suppose  you  feel  satisfied 
with  yourself  over  this  business?  " 

"  It  hath  indeed  been  brought  to  a  favour- 
able conclusion,"  said  Fakrash.  "  Well  hath  the 
poet  written " 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  stand  any  more  '  ele- 
gant extracts '  this  afternoon,"  interrupted 
Horace.  "  Let  us  come  to  business.  You 
seem,"  he  went  on,  with  a  strong  effort  to  keep 
himself  in  hand,  "  to  have  formed  some  plan  for 
marrying  me  to  a  king's  daughter.  May  I  ask 
you  for  full  particulars?  " 

"  No  honour  and  advancement  can  be  in 
excess  of  thy  deserts,"  answered  the  Jinnee. 

"  Very  kind  of  you  to  say  so,  but  you  are 
probably  unaware  that,  as  society  is  constituted 
at  the  present  time,  the  objections  to  such  an 
alliance  would  be  quite  insuperable." 

"  For  me,"  said  the  Jinnee,  "  few  obstacles 
are  insuperable.     But  speak  thy  mind  freely." 

"  I  will,"  said  Horace.  "  To  begin  with,  no 
European  princess  of  the  blood  royal  would  en- 
tertain the  idea  for  a  moment.    And,  if  she  did, 


256  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

she  would  forfeit  her  rank  and  cease  to  be  a 
princess,  and  I  should  probably  be  imprisoned 
in  a  fortress  for  Use-ma jeste,  or  something." 

"  Dismiss  thy  fears,  for  I  do  not  propose  to 
unite  thee  to  any  princess  that  is  born  of  mor- 
tals. The  bride  I  intend  for  thee  is  a  Jinnee- 
yeh — the  peerless  Bedeea-el-Jemal,  daughter  of 
my  kinsman,  Shahyal,  the  ruler  of  the  Blue 
Jinn." 

"  Oh,  is  she,  though,"  said  Horace  blankly. 
"  I'm  exceedingly  obliged,  but  whatever  may 
be  the  lady's  attractions " 

"  Her  nose,"  recited  the  Jinnee,  with  en- 
thusiasm, "  is  like  unto  the  keen  edge  of  a  pol- 
ished sword,  her  hair  resembleth  jewels,  and  her 
cheeks  are  ruddy  as  wine.  She  hath  heavy  hips, 
and  when  she  looketh  aside  she  putteth  to  shame 
the  wild  cows." 

"  My  good,  excellent  friend,"  said  Horace, 
by  no  means  impressed  by  this  catalogue  of 
charms,  "  one  doesn't  marry  to  be  protected 
from  wild  cows." 

"  When  she  walketh  with  a  vacillating 
gait,"  continued  Fakrash,  as  though  he  had  not 
been  interrupted,  "  the  willow  branch  itself 
turneth  green  with  envy." 

"  Personally,"  said  Horace,  "  a  waddle 
doesn't  strike  me  as  particularly  fascinating; 


"COME,  LET  US  KISS  AND  PART"        257 

it's  quite  a  matter  of  taste.  Do  you  happen  to 
have  seen  this  enchantress  lately  ?  " 

"  My  eyes  have  not  been  refreshed  by  her 
manifold  beauties  since  I  was  inclosed  by  Suley- 
man — whose  name  be  accursed! — in  the  brass 
bottle  of  which  thou  knowest.  Why  dost  thou 
ask? " 

"  Merely  because  it  occurred  to  me  that, 
after  very  nearly  three  thousand  years,  your 
charming  kinswoman  may — well,  to  put  it  as 
mildly  as  possible — not  have  altogether  escaped 
the  usual  effects  of  time.  I  mean,  she  must  be 
getting  on,  you  know !  " 

"  O  silly  bearded  one !  "  said  the  Jinnee,  in 
half-scornful  rebuke.  "  Art  thou  then  ignorant 
that  we  of  the  Jinn  are  not  as  mortals,  that  we 
should  feel  the  ravages  of  age? " 

"  Forgive  me  if  I'm  personal,"  said  Horace, 
"  but  surely  your  own  hair  and  beard  might 
be  described  as  rather  gray  than  any  other 
colour." 

"  Not  from  age,"  said  Fakrash.  "  This 
cometh  from  long  confinement." 

"  I  see,"  said  Horace,  "  like  the  prisoner  of 
Chillon.  Well,  assuming  that  the  lady  in  ques- 
tion is  still  in  the  bloom  of  early  youth,  I  see 
one  fatal  difficulty  to  becoming  her  suitor." 

"  Doubtless,"  said  the  Jinnee,  "  thou  art  re- 


258  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

ferring  to  Jarjarees,  the  son  of  Rejmoos,  the 
son  of  Iblees? " 

"  No,  I  wasn't,"  said  Horace.  "  Because, 
you  see,  I  don't  remember  having  ever  heard 
of  him.  However,  he's  another  fatal  difficulty. 
That  makes  two  of  them." 

"  Surely  I  have  spoken  of  him  to  thee  as  my 
deadliest  foe!  It  is  true  that  he  is  a  powerful 
and  vindictive  Efreet  who  hath  long  persecuted 
the  beauteous  Bedeea  with  hateful  attentions. 
Yet  it  may  be  possible,  by  good  fortune,  to  over- 
throw him." 

"  Then  I  gather  that  any  suitor  for  Bedeea's 
hand  would  be  looked  upon  as  a  rival  by  the 
amiable  Jarjarees?" 

"  Far  is  he  from  being  of  an  amiable  disposi- 
tion," answered  the  Jinnee  simply.  "  And  he 
would  be  so  transported  by  rage  and  jealousy 
that  he  would  certainly  challenge  thee  to  mortal 
combat." 

"  Then  that  settles  it,"  said  Horace.  "  I 
don't  think  any  one  can  fairly  call  me  a  coward, 
but  I  do  draw  the  line  at  fighting  an  Efreet  for 
the  hand  of  a  lady  I've  never  seen.  How  do 
I  know  he'd  fight  fair?  " 

"  He  would  probably  appear  unto  thee  first 
in  the  form  of  a  lion,  and  if  he  could  not  thus 
prevail  against  thee,  transform  himself  into  a 


"COME,  LET  US  KISS  AND  PART"        259 

serpent,  and  then  into  a  buffalo,  or  some  other 
wild  beast." 

"  And  I  should  have  to  tackle  the  entire 
menagerie  ?  "  said  Horace.  "  Why,  my  dear 
sir,  I  should  never  get  beyond  the  lion." 

"  I  would  assist  thee  to  assume  similar  trans- 
formations," said  the  Jinnee,  "  and  thus  thou 
mayst  be  enabled  to  defeat  him.  For  I  burn 
with  desire  to  behold  mine  enemy  reduced  to 
cinders." 

"  It's  much  more  likely  that  you  would  have 
to  sweep  me  up,"  said  Horace,  who  had  a  strong 
conviction  that  anything  in  which  the  Jinnee 
was  concerned  would  be  bungled  somehow. 
"  And  if  you're  so  anxious  to  destroy  this  Jar- 
jarees,  why  don't  you  challenge  him  to  meet 
you  in  some  quiet  place  in  the  desert  and  settle 
him  yourself?  It's  much  more  in  your  line  than 
it  is  in  mine." 

He  was  not  without  hopes  that  Fakrash 
would  act  on  this  suggestion,  and  that  so  he 
would  be  relieved  of  him  in  the  simplest  and 
most  satisfactory  way,  but  any  such  hopes  were, 
as  usual,  doomed  to  disappointment. 

"  It  would  be  of  no  avail,"  said  the  Jinnee, 
"  for  it  hath  been  written  of  old  that  Jarjarees 
shall  not  perish  save  by  the  hand  of  a  mortal. 
And  I  am  persuaded  that  thou  wilt  turn  out  to 


260  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

be  that  mortal,  since  thou  art  both  strong  and 
fearless;  and,  moreover,  it  is  predestined  also 
that  Bedeea  shall  wed  one  of  the  sons  of  men." 

"  Then,"  said  Horace,  feeling  that  this  line 
of  defence  must  be  abandoned,  "  I  fall  back 
on  objection  number  one.  Even  if  Jarjarees 
were  obliging  enough  to  retire  in  my  favour, 
I  should  still  decline  to  become  the — a — con- 
sort of  a  Jinneeyeh  whom  I've  never  seen  and 
don't  love." 

"  Thou  hast  heard  of  her  incomparable 
charms,  and  verily  the  ear  may  love  before  the 
eye." 

"  It  may,"  admitted  Horace,  "  but  neither 
of  my  ears  is  the  least  in  love  at  present." 

"  These  reasons  are  of  no  value,"  said  Fak- 
rash,  "  and  if  thou  hast  none  better " 

"  Well,"  said  Ventimore,  "  I  think  I  have. 
You  profess  to  be  anxious  to — to  requite  the 
trifling  service  I  rendered  you,  though  hitherto, 
you'll  admit  yourself,  you  haven't  made  a  very 
brilliant  success  of  it.  But,  putting  the  past 
aside,"  he  continued,  with  a  sudden  dryness  in 
his  throat,  "  putting  the  past  aside,  I  ask  you 
to  consider  what  possible  benefit  or  happiness 
such  a  match  as  this —  I'm  afraid  I'm  not  so 
fortunate  as  to  secure  your  attention,"  he  broke 
off,  as  he  observed  the  Jinnee's  eyes  beginning 


"COME,  LET  US  KISS  AND  PART"       261 

to  film  over  in  the  disagreeable  manner  charac- 
teristic of  certain  birds. 

"Proceed!"  said  Fakrash,  unskinning  his 
eyes  for  a  second.  "  I  am  hearkening  unto 
thee." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  stammered  Horace  incon- 
sequently  enough,  "  that  all  that  time  inside  a 
bottle — well,  you  can't  call  it  experience  exact- 
ly— and  possibly  in  the  interval  you've  forgot- 
ten all  you  knew  about  feminine  nature.  I 
think  you  must  have." 

"  It  is  not  possible  that  such  knowledge 
should  be  forgotten,"  said  the  Jinnee,  resenting 
this  imputation  in  quite  a  human  way.  "  Thy 
words  appear  to  me  to  lack  sense.  Interpret 
them,  I  pray  thee." 

"  Why,"  explained  Horace,  "  you  don't 
mean  to  tell  me  that  this  young  and  lovely  rela- 
tion of  yours,  a  kind  of  immortal,  and — and 
with  the  devil's  own  pride,  would  be  gratified 
by  your  proposal  to  bestow  her  hand  upon  an 
insignificant  and  unsuccessful  London  architect? 
She'd  turn  up  that  sharp  and  polished  nose  of 
hers  at  the  mere  idea  of  so  unequal  a  match." 

"  An  excellent  rank  is  that  conferred  by 
wealth,"  remarked  the  Jinnee. 

"  But  I'm  not  rich,  and  I've  already  declined 
any  riches  from  you,"  said  Horace.      "  And, 


262  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

what's  more  to  the  point,  I'm  perfectly  and 
hopelessly  obscure.  If  you  had  the  slightest 
sense  of  humour — which  I  fear  you  have  not — 
you  would  at  once  perceive  the  absurdity  of  pro- 
posing to  unite  a  radiant  ethereal  superhuman 
being  to  a  commonplace  professional  nonentity 
in  a  morning  coat  and  a  tall  hat.  .  .  .  It's  really 
too  ridiculous!  " 

"  What  thou  hast  just  said  is  not  altogether 
without  wisdom,"  said  Fakrash,  to  whom  this 
was  evidently  a  new  point  of  view.  "  Art  thou 
indeed  so  utterly  unknown?  " 

"  Unknown?  "  repeated  Horace.  "  I  should 
rather  think  I  was.  I'm  simply  an  inconsider- 
able unit  in  the  population  of  the  vastest  city  in 
the  world.  Or,  rather,  not  a  unit — a  cipher. 
And,  don't  you  see,  a  man  to  be  worthy  of  your 
exalted  kinswoman  ought  to  be  a  celebrity. 
There  are  plenty  of  them  about." 

"  What  meanest  thou  by  a  celebrity? "  in- 
quired Fakrash,  falling  into  the  trap  more 
readily  than  Horace  had  ventured  to  hope. 

"  Oh,  well,  a  distinguished  person  whose 
name  is  on  everybody's  lips,  who  is  honoured 
and  praised  by  all  his  fellow  citizens.  Now 
that  kind  of  man  no  Jinneeyeh  could  look  down 
upon." 

"  I  perceive,"   said  Fakrash   thoughtfully. 


"COME,  LET  US  KISS  AND  PART"       263 

"  Yes,  I  was  in  danger  of  committing  a  rash 
action.  How  do  men  honour  such  distinguished 
individuals  in  these  days? " 

"  They  generally  overfeed  them,"  said  Hor- 
ace. "  In  London  the  highest  honour  a  hero 
can  be  paid  is  to  receive  the  freedom  of  the 
city,  which  is  only  conferred  in  very  exceptional 
cases  and  for  some  notable  service.  But,  of 
course,  there  are  other  sorts  of  celebrities,  as 
you  could  see  if  you  glanced  through  the  so- 
ciety papers." 

"  I  can  not  believe  that  thou,  who  seemest 
a  gracious  and  talented  young  man,  can  be  in- 
deed so  obscure  as  thou  hast  represented." 

"  My  good  sir,  any  of  the  flowers  that  blush 
unseen  in  the  desert  air,  or  the  gems  concealed 
in  ocean  caves,  so  excellently  described  by  one 
of  our  poets,  could  give  me  points  and  a  beating 
in  the  matter  of  notoriety.  I'll  make  you  a 
sporting  offer.  There  are  over  five  million  in- 
habitants in  this  London  of  ours.  If  you  go 
out  into  the  streets,  and  ask  the  first  five  hun- 
dred you  meet  whether  they  know  me,  I  don't 
mind  betting  you — what  shall  I  say,  a  new  hat? 
— that  you  won't  find  half  a  dozen  who've  ever 
even  heard  of  my  existence.  Why  not  go  out 
and  see  for  yourself?  " 

To  his  surprise  and  gratification  the  Jinnee 


264  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

took  this  suggestion  seriously.  "  I  will  go  and 
make  inquiry,"  he  said,  "  for  I  desire  further 
enlightenment  concerning  thy  statements.  But 
remember,"  he  added,  "  should  I  still  require 
thee  to  wed  the  matchless  Bedeea-el-Jemal,  and 
thou  shouldst  disobey  me,  thou  wilt  bring  dis- 
aster, not  on  thine  own  head,  but  on  those  thou 
art  most  desirous  of  protecting." 

"  Yes,  so  you  told  me  before,"  said  Horace 
brusquely.  "  Good  evening."  But  Fakrash 
was  already  gone. 

In  spite  of  all  he  had  gone  through,  and  the 
unknown  difficulties  before  him,  Ventimore  was 
seized  with  what  Uncle  Remus  calls  "  a  spell 
of  the  dry  grins  "  at  the  thought  of  the  probable 
replies  that  the  Jinnee  would  meet  with  in  the 
course  of  his  inquiries.  "  I'm  afraid  he  won't 
be  particularly  impressed  by  the  politeness  of  a 
London  crowd,"  he  thought;  "  but  at  least 
they'll  convince  him  that  I  am  not  exactly  a 
prominent  citizen.  Then  he'll  give  up  this 
idiotic  match  of  his.  ...  I  don't  know,  though. 
He's  such  a  pig-headed  old  fool  that  he  may 
stick  to  it  all  the  same.  I  may  find  myself  en- 
cumbered with  a  Jinneeyeh  bride  several  cen- 
turies my  senior  before  I  know  where  I  am. 
No,  I  forgot;  there's  the  jealous  Jarjarees  to  be 
polished  off  first.     I  seem  to  remember  some- 


"COME,   LET  US  KISS  AND   PART"      265 

thing  about  a  quick-change  combat  with  an 
Efreet  in  the  Arabian  Nights.  I  may  as 
well  look  it  up,  and  see  what  may  be  in  store 
for  me." 

And  after  dinner  he  went  to  his  shelves  and 
took  down  Lane's  three-volume  edition  of  the 
Arabian  Nights,  which  he  set  himself  to  study 
with  a  new  interest.  It  was  long  since  he  had 
looked  into  these  wondrous  tales,  old  beyond  all 
human  calculation,  and  fresher,  even  now,  than 
the  most  modern  of  successful  romances.  After 
all,  he  was  tempted  to  think,  they  might  pos- 
sess quite  as  much  historical  value  as  many 
works  with  graver  pretensions  to  accuracy. 

He  found  a  full  account  of  the  combat  with 
the  Efreet  in  the  Story  of  the  Second  Royal 
Mendicant,  in  the  first  volume,  and  was  unpleas- 
antly surprised  to  discover  that  the  Efreet's 
name  was  actually  given  as  "  Jarjarees,  the  son 
of  Rejmoos,  the  son  of  Iblees  " — evidently  the 
same  person  to  whom  Fakrash  had  referred  as 
his  bitterest  foe.  He  was  described  as  "  of 
hideous  aspect,"  and  had,  it  seemed,  not  only 
carried  off  the  daughter  of  the  lord  of  the 
Ebony  Island  on  her  wedding  night,  but,  on 
discovering  her  in  the  society  of  the  Royal  Men- 
dicant, had  revenged  himself  by  striking  off 
her  hands,  her  feet,  and  her  head,  and  trans- 


266  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

forming  his  human  rival  into  an  ape.  "  Be- 
tween this  fellow  and  old  Fakrash,"  he  reflected 
ruefully  at  this  point,  "  I  seem  likely  to  have 
a  fairly  lively  time  of  it." 

He  read  on  till  he  reached  the  memorable 
encounter  between  the  king's  daughter  and  Jar- 
jarees,  who  presented  himself  "  in  a  most  hide- 
ous shape,  with  hands  like  winnowing  forks,  and 
legs  like  masts,  and  eyes  like  burning  torches," 
which  was  calculated  to  unnerve  the  stoutest 
novice.  The  Ef reet  began  by  transforming  him- 
self from  a  lion  to  a  scorpion,  upon  which  the 
princess  became  a  serpent;  then  he  changed 
to  an  eagle,  and  she  to  a  vulture;  he  to  a  black 
cat,  and  she  to  a  wolf;  he  to  a  burst  pomegran- 
ate, and  she  to  a  cock;  he  to  a  fish,  and  she  to 
a  larger  fish  still. 

"  If  Fakrash  can  shove  me  through  all  that 
without  a  fatal  hitch  somewhere,"  Ventimore 
told  himself,  "  I  shall  be  agreeably  disappointed 
in  him."  But,  after  reading  a  few  more  lines, 
he  cheered  up.  For  the  Efreet  finished  as  a 
flame,  and  the  princess  as  a  "  body  of  fire." 
"  And  when  we  looked  toward  him,"  continued 
the  narrator,  "  we  perceived  that  he  had  be- 
come a  heap  of  ashes." 

"  Come,"  said  Horace  to  himself.  "  That 
puts  Jarjarees  out  of  action,  anyway.    The  odd 


"COME,   LET  US  KISS  AND  TAKT"       267 

thing  is  that  Fakrash  should  never  have  heard 
of  it." 

But,  as  he  saw  on  reflection,  it  was  not  so 
very  odd  after  all,  as  the  incident  had  probably 
happened  after  the  Jinnee  had  been  consigned 
to  his  brass  bottle,  where  intelligence  of  any 
kind  would  be  most  unlikely  to  reach  him. 

He  worked  steadily  through  the  whole  of 
the  second  volume  and  part  of  the  third;  but, 
although  he  picked  up  a  certain  amount  of  in- 
formation upon  Oriental  habits  and  modes  of 
thought  and  speech  which  might  come  in  use- 
fully later,  it  was  not  until  he  arrived  at  the 
twenty-fourth  chapter  of  the  third  volume  that 
his  interest  really  revived. 

For  the  twenty-fourth  chapter  contained 
The  Story  of  Seyf-el-Mulook  and  Bedeea-el- 
Jemal,  and  it  was  only  natural  that  he  should 
be  anxious  to  know  all  that  there  was  to  know 
concerning  the  antecedents  of  one  who  might 
be  his  fiancee  before  long.    He  read  eagerly. 

Bedeea,  it  appeared,  was  the  lovely  daugh- 
ter of  Shahyal,  one  of  the  kings  of  the  believing 
Jinn;  her  father — not  Fakrash,  as  he  had  in- 
correctly asserted — had  offered  her  in  marriage 
to  no  less  a  personage  than  King  Solomon  him- 
self, who,  however,  had  preferred  the  Queen  of 
Sheba.  Seyf,  the  son  of  the  king  of  Egypt, 
18 


268  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

afterward  fell  desperately  in  love  with  Bedeea, 
but  she  and  her  grandmother  both  declared  that 
between  mankind  and  the  Jinn  there  could  be 
no  agreement. 

"  And  Seyf  was  a  king's  son,"  commented 
Horace.  "  I  needn't  alarm  myself.  She 
wouldn't  be  likely  to  have  anything  to  say  to 
me.    It's  just  as  I  told  Fakrash." 

His  heart  grew  lighter  still  as  he  came  to 
the  end,  for  he  learned  that,  after  many  ad- 
ventures which  need  not  be  mentioned  here, 
the  devoted  Seyf  did  actually  succeed  in  gain- 
ing the  proud  Bedeea  as  his  wife.  "  Even  Fak- 
rash could  not  propose  to  marry  me  to  some  one 
who  has  a  husband  already,"  he  thought. 
"  Still,  she  may  be  a  widow." 

To  his  relief,  however,  the  conclusion  ran 
thus:  "  Seyf-el-Mulook  lived  with  Bedeea-el- 
Jemal  a  most  pleasant  and  agreeable  life  .  .  . 
until  they  were  visited  by  the  terminator  of 
delights  and  the  separator  of  companions." 

"  If  that  means  anything  at  all,"  he  rea- 
soned, "  it  means  that  Seyf  and  Bedeea  are 
both  deceased.  Even  a  Jinneeyeh  seems  to  be 
mortal.  Or  perhaps  she  became  so  by  marrying 
a  mortal.  I  dare  say  that  Fakrash  himself 
wouldn't  have  lasted  all  this  time  if  he  hadn't 
been  bottled,  like  a  tinned  tomato.     But  I'm 


"COME,   LET  US  KISS  AND  PART"       269 

glad  I  found  all  this  out,  because  Fakrash  is 
evidently  unaware  of  it,  and,  if  he  should  persist 
in  any  more  of  this  nonsense,  I  think  I  see  my 
way  now  to  getting  the  better  of  him." 

So,  with  renewed  hope  and  in  vastly  im- 
proved spirits,  he  went  to  bed  and  was  soon 
sound  asleep. 


CHAPTEK  XV 

BLUSHING    HONOURS 

It  was  rather  late  the  next  morning  when 
Ventimore  opened  his  eyes,  to  discover  the  Jin- 
nee standing  by  the  foot  of  his  bed.  "  Oh,  it's 
you,  is  it?  "  he  said  sleepily.  "  How  did  you — 
a — get  on  last  night?  " 

"  I  gained  such  information  as  I  desired," 
said  Fakrash  guardedly;  "  and  now,  for  the  last 
time,  I  am  come  to  ask  thee  whether  thou  wilt 
still  persist  in  refusing  to  wed  the  illustrious 
Bedeea-el-Jemal.  And  have  a  care  how  thou 
answerest." 

"  So  you  haven't  given  up  the  idea? "  said 
Horace.  "  Well,  since  you  make  such  a  point 
of  it,  I'll  meet  you  as  far  as  this:  If  you  pro- 
duce the  lady,  and  she  consents  to  marry  me, 
I  won't  decline  the  honour.  But  there's  one 
condition  I  really  must  insist  on." 

"  It  is  not  for  thee  to  make  stipulations. 
Still,  yet  this  once  I  will  hear  thee." 

"  I'm  sure  you'll  see  that  it's  only  fair.  Sup- 
270 


BLUSHING  HONOURS  271 

posing,  for  any  reason,  you  can't  persuade  the 
princess  to  meet  me  within  a  reasonable  time — 
shall  we  say  a  week?  " 

"  Thou  shalt  be  admitted  to  her  presence 
within  twenty-four  hours,"  said  the  Jinnee. 

"  That's  better  still.  Then,  if  I  don't  see 
her  within  twenty-four  hours,  I  am  to  be  at 
liberty  to  infer  that  the  negotiations  are  off, 
and  I  may  marry  anybody  else  I  please  without 
any  opposition  from  you.    Is  that  understood  ?  " 

"  It  is  agreed,"  said  Fakrash.  "  For  I  am 
confident  that  Bedeea  will  accept  thee  joy- 
fully." 

"We  shall  see,"  said  Horace.  "But  it 
might  be  as  well  if  you  went  and  prepared  her 
a  little.  I  suppose  you  know  where  to  find 
her,  and  you've  only  twenty-four  hours,  you 
know." 

"  More  than  is  needed,"  answered  the  Jin- 
nee, with  such  childlike  confidence  that  Horace 
felt  almost  ashamed  of  so  easy  a  victory.  "  But 
the  sun  is  already  high.  Arise,  my  son,  put  on 
these  robes  " — and  with  this  he  flung  on  the 
bed  the  magnificent  raiment  which  Ventimore 
had  last  worn  on  the  night  of  his  disastrous  en- 
tertainment— "  and  when  thou  hast  broken  thy 
fast  prepare  to  accompany  me." 

"  Before  I  agree  to  that,"  said  Horace,  sit- 


272  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

ting  up  in  bed,  "  I  should  like  to  know  where 
you're  taking  me  to." 

"  Obey  me  without  demur,"  said  Fakrash, 
"  or  thou  knowest  the  consequences." 

It  seemed  to  Horace  that  it  was  as  well 
to  humour  him,  and  he  got  up  accordingly, 
washed  and  shaved,  and,  putting  on  his  dazzling 
robe  of  cloth  of  gold  thickly  sown  with  gems, 
he  joined  Fakrash — who,  by  the  way,  was  simi- 
larly, if  less  gorgeously,  arrayed — in  the  sitting- 
room,  in  a  state  of  some  mystification. 

"  Eat  quickly,"  commanded  the  Jinnee, 
"  for  the  time  is  short "  ;  and  Horace,  after 
hastily  disposing  of  a  cold  poached  egg  and  a 
cup  of  coffee,  happened  to  go  to  the  windows. 

"  Good  heavens !  "  he  cried.  "  What  does 
all  this  mean? " 

He  might  well  ask.  On  the  opposite  side  of 
the  road,  by  the  railings  of  the  Square,  a  large 
crowd  had  collected,  all  staring  at  the  house  in 
eager  expectation.  As  they  caught  sight  of  him 
they  raised  a  cheer  which  caused  him  to  retreat 
in  confusion,  but  not  before  he  had  seen  a  great 
golden  chariot  with  six  magnificent  coal-black 
horses  and  a  suite  of  swarthy  attendants  in  bar- 
baric liveries  standing  by  the  pavement  below. 
"  Whose  carriage  is  that?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  belongs  to  thee,"  said  the  Jinnee.    "  De- 


BLUSHING  HONOURS  273 

scend,  then,  and  make  thy  progress  in  it  through 
the  City." 

"  I  will  not,"  said  Horace,  "  even  to  oblige 
you.  I  simply  can't  drive  along  the  streets  in 
a  thing  like  the  band  chariot  of  a  travelling 
circus." 

"It  is  necessary,"  declared  Fakrash.  "Must 
I  again  recall  to  thee  the  penalty  of  disobedi- 
ence? " 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  said  Horace  irritably.  "  If 
you  insist  on  my  making  a  fool  of  myself,  I  sup- 
pose I  must.  But  where  am  I  to  drive,  and 
why?" 

"  That,"  replied  Fakrash,  "  thou  shalt  dis- 
cover at  the  fitting  moment."  And  so,  amid 
the  shouts  of  the  spectators,  Ventimore  climbed 
up  into  the  strange-looking  vehicle,  while  the 
Jinnee  took  his  seat  by  his  side.  Horace  had  a 
parting  glimpse  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rapkin's  re- 
spective noses  flattened  against  the  basement 
window,  and  then  two  dusky  slaves  mounted  to 
a  seat  at  the  back  of  the  chariot,  and  the  horses 
started  off  at  a  stately  trot  in  the  direction  of 
Rochester  Row. 

"  I  think  you  might  tell  me  what  all  this 
means,"  he  said.  "  You've  no  conception  what 
an  ass  I  feel  stuck  up  here  like  this." 

"  Dismiss  bashfulness  from  thee,  since  all 


274  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

this  is  designed  to  render  thee  more  acceptable 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Princess  Bedeea,"  said  the 
Jinnee. 

Horace  said  no  more,  though  he  could  not 
but  think  that  this  parade  would  be  thrown 
away. 

But,  as  they  turned  into  Victoria  Street  and 
seemed  to  be  heading  straight  for  the  Abbey,  a 
horrible  thought  occurred  to  him.  After  all, 
his  only  authority  for  the  marriage  and  decease 
of  Bedeea  was  the  Arabian  Nights,  which  was 
not  unimpeachable  evidence.  What  if  she  were 
alive  and  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  bride- 
groom? No  one  but  Fakrash  would  have  con- 
ceived such  an  idea  as  marrying  him  to  a 
Jinneyeh  in  Westminster  Abbey,  but  he  was 
capable  of  any  extravagance,  and  there  were 
apparently  no  limits  to  his  power. 

"  Mr.  Fakrash,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "  surely 
this  isn't  my — my  wedding  day?  You're  not 
going  to  have  the  ceremony  there  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Jinnee.  "  Be  not  impa- 
tient. For  this  edifice  would  be  totally  unfitted 
for  the  celebration  of  such  nuptials  as  thine." 

As  he  spoke  the  chariot  left  the  Abbey  on 
the  right  and  turned  down  the  Embankment. 
The  relief  was  so  intense  that  Horace's  spirits 
rose  irrepressibly.      It  was  absurd  to  suppose 


BLUSHING  HONOURS  275 

that  even  Fakrash  could  have  arranged  the  cere- 
mony in  so  short  a  time.  He  was  merely  being 
taken  for  a  drive,  and  fortunately  his  best 
friends  could  not  recognise  him  in  his  Oriental 
disguise.  And  it  was  a  glorious  morning,  with 
a  touch  of  frost  in  the  air  and  a  sky  of  streaky 
turquoise  and  pale  golden  clouds;  the  broad 
river  glittered  in  the  sunshine;  the  pavements 
were  lined  with  admiring  crowds,  and  the  car- 
riage rolled  on  amid  frantic  enthusiasm,  like 
some  triumphal  car. 

"  How  they're  cheering  us !  "  said  Horace. 
"  Why,  they  couldn't  make  more  row  for  the 
Lord  Mayor  himself." 

"  What  is  this  Lord  Mayor  of  whom  thou 
speakest? "  inquired  Fakrash. 

"  The  Lord  Mayor?  "  said  Horace.  "  Oh, 
he's  unique.  There's  nobody  in  the  world 
quite  like  him.  He  administers  the  law,  and 
if  there's  any  distress  in  any  part  of  the  earth 
he  relieves  it.  He  entertains  monarchs  and 
princes  and  all  kinds  of  potentates  at  his  ban- 
quets, and  altogether  he's  a  tremendous 
swell." 

"  Hath  he  dominion  over  the  earth  and  the 
air  and  all  that  is  therein?  " 

"  Within  his  own  precincts  I  believe  he 
has,"  said  Horace  rather  hazily,  "  but  I  really 


276  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

don't  know  precisely  how  wide  his  powers  are." 
He  was  vainly  trying  to  recollect  whether  such 
matters  as  sky  signs,  telephones,  and  telegraphs 
in  the  City  were  within  the  Lord  Mayor's  juris- 
diction or  the  county  council's. 

Fakrash  remained  silent  till  just  as  they 
were  driving  underneath  Charing  Cross  Railway 
Bridge,  when  he  started  perceptibly  at  the 
thunder  of  the  trains  overhead  and  the  piercing 
whistles  of  the  engines.  "  Tell  me,"  he  said, 
clutching  Horace  by  the  arm,  "  what  meaneth 
this?" 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  said  Horace, 
"  that  you  have  been  about  London  all  these 
days  and  never  noticed  things  like  these  be- 
fore?" 

"  Till  now,"  said  the  Jinnee,  "  I  have  had 
no  leisure  to  observe  them  and  discover  their 
nature." 

"  Well,"  said  Horace,  anxious  to  let  the  Jin- 
nee see  that  he  had  not  the  monopoly  of  mira- 
cles, "  since  your  day  we  have  discovered  how 
to  tame  or  chain  the  great  forces  of  Nature  and 
compel  them  to  do  our  will.  We  control  the 
spirits  of  earth,  air,  fire,  and  water,  and  make 
them  give  us  light  and  heat,  carry  our  messages, 
fight  our  quarrels  for  us,  transport  us  wherever 
we  wish  to  go — all  with  a  certainty  and  precision 


BLUSHING  HONOURS  277 

that  throw  even  your  performances,  my  dear 
sir,  entirely  into  the  shade." 

Considering  what  a  very  large  majority  of 
civilized  persons  would  be  as  powerless  to  con- 
struct the  most  elementary  machine  as  to  create 
the  humblest  kind  of  horse,  it  is  not  a  little  odd 
how  complacently  we  credit  ourselves  with  all 
the  latest  achievements  of  our  generation.  Most 
of  us  accept  the  amazement  of  the  simple- 
minded  barbarian  on  his  first  introduction  to 
modern  inventions  as  a  gratifying  personal  trib- 
ute; we  feel  a  certain  superiority,  even  if  we 
magnanimously  refrain  from  boastf ulness.  And 
yet  our  own  particular  share  in  these  discoveries 
is  limited  to  making  use  of  them  under  expert 
guidance,  which  any  barbarian,  after  overcom- 
ing his  terror,  is  quite  as  competent  to  do  as 
we  are. 

It  is  a  harmless  vanity  enough,  and  espe- 
cially pardonable  in  Ventimore's  case,  when  it 
was  so  desirable  to  correct  any  tendency  to  "  up- 
pishness  "  on  the  part  of  the  Jinnee. 

"  And  doth  the  Lord  Mayor  dispose  of  these 
forces  at  his  will?  "  inquired  Fakrash,  on  whom 
Ventimore's  explanation  had  evidently  produced 
some  impression. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Horace,  "  whenever  he 
has  occasion." 


278  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

The  Jinnee  seemed  engrossed  in  his  own 
thoughts,  for  he  said  no  more  just  then. 

They  were  now  nearing  St.  Paul's  Cathe- 
dral, and  Horace's  first  suspicion  returned  with 
double  force. 

"  Mr.  Fakrash,  answer  me,"  he  said.  "  Is 
this  my  wedding  day  or  not?  If  it  is,  it's  time 
I  was  told." 

"  Not  yet,"  said  the  Jinnee  enigmatically, 
and  indeed  it  proved  to  be  another  false  alarm, 
for  they  turned  down  Cannon  Street  and  toward 
the  Mansion  House. 

"  Perhaps  you  can  tell  me  why  we're  going 
through  Victoria  Street,  and  what  all  this  crowd 
has  come  out  for? "  asked  Yentimore.  For  the 
throng  was  denser  than  ever;  the  people  surged 
and  swayed  in  serried  ranks  behind  the  City 
police,  and  gazed  with  a  wonder  and  awe  that 
for  once  seemed  to  have  entirely  silenced  the 
cockney  instinct  of  persiflage. 

"  For  what  else  but  to  do  thee  honour,"  an- 
swered Fakrash. 

"  What  bosh!  "  said  Horace.  "  They  mis- 
take me  for  the  Shah  or  somebody — and  no  won- 
der, in  this  get-up." 

"  Not  so,"  said  the  Jinnee.  "  Thy  names 
are  familiar  to  them." 

Horace  glanced  up  at  the  hastily  improvised 


BLUSHING  HONOURS  279 

decorations;  on  one  large  strip  of  bunting  which 

spanned  the  street  he  read :  "  Welcome  to  the 

City's   Most    Distinguished    Guest!"      "They 

can't  mean  me,"  he  thought;  and  then  another 

legend  caught  his  eye :   "  Well  Done,  Venti- 

more!  "     And  an  enthusiastic  householder  next 

door  had  burst  into  poetry  and  displayed  the 

couplet : 

"  Would  we  had  twenty  more 
Like  Horace  Ventimore ! " 

"  They  do  mean  me !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Now, 
Mr.  Fakrash,  will  you  kindly  explain  what  tom- 
foolery you've  been  up  to  now?  I  know  you're 
at  the  bottom  of  this  business." 

It  struck  him  that  the  Jinnee  was  slightly 
embarrassed.  "  Didst  thou  not  say,"  he  replied, 
"  that  he  who  should  receive  the  freedom  of  the 
City  from  his  fellowmen  would  be  worthy  of 
Bedeea-el-Jemal? " 

"  I  may  have  said  something  of  the  sort. 
.  .  .  But,  good  heavens,  you  don't  mean  that 
you  have  contrived  that  I  should  receive  the 
freedom  of  the  City?  " 

"  It  was  the  easiest  affair  possible,"  said  the 
Jinnee,  but  he  did  not  attempt  to  meet  Hor- 
ace's eye. 

"  Was  it,  though?  "  said  Horace,  in  a  white 
rage.     "  I  don't  want  to  be  inquisitive,  but  I 


280  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

should  like  to  know  what  I've  done  to  de- 
serve it." 

"  Why  trouble  thyself  with  the  reason?  Let 
it  suffice  thee  that  such  honour  is  bestowed  upon 
thee." 

By  this  time  the  chariot  had  crossed  Cheap- 
side  and  was  entering  King  Street. 

"  This  really  won't  do,"  urged  Horace. 
"  It's  not  fair  to  me.  Either  I've  done  some- 
thing or  you  must  have  made  the  Corporation 
believe  I've  done  something  to  be  received  like 
this.  And,  as  we  shall  be  in  the  Guildhall  in  a 
very  few  seconds,  you  may  as  well  tell  me  what 
it  is." 

"  Regarding  that  matter,"  replied  the  Jin- 
nee, in  some  confusion,  "  I  am  truly  as  ignorant 
as  thyself." 

As  he  spoke  they  drove  through  some  tem- 
porary wooden  gates  into  the  court-yard,  where 
the  Honourable  Artillery  Company  presented 
arms  to  them,  and  the  carriage  drew  up  before 
a  large  marquee  decorated  with  shields  and  clus- 
tered banners. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Fakrash,"  said  Horace  with  sup- 
pressed fury,  as  he  alighted,  "  you  have  sur- 
passed yourself  this  time.  You've  got  me  into 
a  nice  scrape,  and  you'll  have  to  pull  me  through 
it  as  well  as  you  can." 


BLUSHING  HONOURS  281 

"  Have  no  uneasiness/'  said  the  Jinnee,  as 
he  accompanied  his  protege  into  the  marquee, 
which  was  brilliant  with  pretty  women  in  smart 
frocks,  officers  in  scarlet  tunics  and  plumed  hats, 
and  servants  in  state  liveries.  Their  entrance 
was  greeted  by  a  politely  subdued  buzz  of  ap- 
plause and  admiration,  and  an  official  who  in- 
troduced himself  as  the  Prime  Warden  of  the 
Candlestickmakers  Company  advanced  to  meet 
them.  "  The  Lord  Mayor  will  receive  you  in 
the  Library,"  he  said,  "  if  you  will  have  the 
kindness  to  follow  me." 

Horace  followed  him  mechanically.  "  I'm 
in  for  it  now,"  he  thought,  "  whatever  it  is.  If 
I  can  only  trust  Fakrash  to  back  me  up,  but  I'm 
hanged  if  I  don't  believe  he's  more  nervous 
than  I  am." 

As  they  came  into  the  noble  Library  of  the 
Guildhall  a  fine  string  band  struck  up,  and  Hor- 
ace, with  the  Jinnee  in  his  rear,  made  his  way 
through  a  lane  of  distinguished  spectators  to- 
ward a  dai's,  on  the  steps  of  which,  in  his  gold- 
trimmed  robes  and  black-feathered  hat,  stood 
the  Lord  Mayor  with  his  sword-  and  mace-bear- 
ers on  either  hand,  and  behind  him  a  row  of 
beaming  sheriffs. 

A  truly  stately  and  imposing  figure  did  the 
Chief  Magistrate  for  that  particular  year  pre- 


282  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

sent.  Tall,  dignified,  with  a  lofty  forehead 
whose  polished  temples  reflected  the  light,  an 
aquiline  nose  and  piercing  black  eyes  under 
heavy  white  eyebrows,  a  frosty  pink  in  his 
wrinkled  cheeks,  and  a  flowing  silver  beard  with 
a  touch  of  gold  still  lingering  under  the  lower 
lip,  he  seemed,  as  he  stood  there,  a  worthy  repre- 
sentative of  the  greatest  and  richest  city  in  the 
world. 

Horace  approached  the  steps  with  an  un- 
pleasant sensation  of  weakness  at  the  knees,  and 
no  sort  of  idea  what  he  was  expected  to  do  or 
say  when  he  arrived. 

And,  in  his  perplexity,  he  turned  for  support 
and  guidance  to  his  self -constituted  mentor,  only 
to  discover  that  the  Jinnee,  whose  short-sighted- 
ness and  ignorance  had  planted  him  in  his  pres- 
ent false  position,  had  mysteriously  and  per- 
fidiously disappeared,  and  left  him  to  grapple 
with  the  situation  single-handed. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A    KILLING    FEOST 

Fortunately  for  Ventimore,  the  momen- 
tary dismay  he  had  felt  on  finding  himself  de- 
serted by  his  incomprehensible  Jinnee  at  the 
very  outset  of  the  ceremony  passed  unnoticed, 
as  the  Prime  Warden  of  the  Candlestickmakers 
Company  immediately  came  to  his  rescue  by 
briefly  introducing  him  to  the  Lord  Mayor,  who, 
with  dignified  courtesy,  had  descended  to  the 
lowest  step  of  the  dais  to  receive  him. 

"  Mr.  Ventimore,"  said  the  Chief  Magis- 
trate cordially,  as  he  pressed  Horace's  hand, 
"  you  must  allow  me  to  say  that  I  consider  this 
one  of  the  greatest  privileges — if  not  the  great- 
est privilege — that  have  fallen  to  my  lot  during 
a  term  of  office  in  which  I  have  had  the  honour 
of  welcoming  more  than  the  usual  number  of 
illustrious  visitors." 

"  My  Lord  Mayor,"  said  Horace,  with  ab- 
solute sincerity,  "  you  really  overwhelm  me.  I 
— I  only  wish  I  could  feel  that  I  had  done  any- 
19  283 


284:  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

thing  to  deserve  this — this  magnificent  compli- 
ment." 

"  Ah !  "  replied  the  Lord  Mayor,  in  a  pa- 
ternally rallying  tone.  "  Modest,  my  dear  sir, 
I  perceive.  Like  all  truly  great  men !  A  most 
admirable  trait!  Permit  me  to  present  you  to 
the  sheriffs." 

The  sheriffs  appeared  highly  delighted. 
Horace  shook  hands  with  all  of  them;  indeed, 
in  the  flurry  of  the  moment  he  very  nearly 
offered  to  do  so. with  the  sword-  and  mace-bearers 
as  well,  but  their  hands  were,  as  it  happened, 
otherwise  engaged. 

"  The  actual  presentation,"  said  the  Lord 
Mayor,  "  takes  place  in  the  Great  Hall,  as  you 
are  doubtless  aware." 

"  I — I  have  been  given  to  understand  so," 
said  Horace,  with  a  sinking  heart,  for  he  had 
begun  to  hope  that  the  worst  was  over. 

"But  before  we  adjourn,"  said  his  host, 
"  you  will  let  me  tempt  you  to  partake  of  some 
slight  refreshment — just  a  snack?" 

Horace  was  not  hungry,  but  it  occurred  to 
him  that  he  might  get  through  the  ceremony 
with  more  credit  after  a  glass  of  champagne, 
so  he  accepted  the  invitation  and  was  conducted 
to  an  extemporized  buffet  at  one  end  of  the 
Library,  where  he  fortified  himself  for  the  im- 


A  KILLING  FROST 


pending  ordeal  with  a  caviare  sandwich  and  a 
bumper  of  the  driest  champagne  in  the  Cor- 
poration cellars. 

"  They  talk  of  abolishing  us,"  said  the  Lord 
Mayor,  as  he  took  an  anchovy  on  toast,  "  but  I 
maintain,  Mr.  Yentimore — I  maintain  that  we, 
with  our  ancient  customs,  our  time-honoured 
traditions,  form  a  link  with  the  past  which  a 
wise  statesman  will  preserve — if  I  may  employ 
a  somewhat  vulgar  term — untinkered  with." 

Horace  agreed,  remembering  a  link  with  a 
far  more  ancient  past  with  which  he  devoutly 
wished  he  had  refrained  from  tinkering. 

"  Talking  of  ancient  customs,"  the  Lord 
Mayor  continued,  with  an  odd  blend  of  pride 
and  apology,  "  you  will  shortly  have  an  illustra- 
tion of  our  antiquated  procedure  which  may  im- 
press you  as  quaint." 

Horace,  feeling  absolutely  idiotic,  mur- 
mured that  he  felt  sure  it  would  do  that. 

"  Before  presenting  you  for  the  freedom, 
the  Prime  Warden  and  five  officials  of  the  Can- 
dlestickmakers  Company  will  give  their  testi- 
mony as  compurgators  in  your  favour,  making 
oath  that  you  are  '  a  man  of  good  name  and 
fame,'  and  that  (you  will  be  amused  at  this,  Mr. 
Ventimore) — that  you  '  do  not  desire  the  free- 
dom of  this  City  whereby  to  defraud  the  Queen 


286  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

or  the  City.'  Ha-ha!  curious  way  of  putting 
it,  is  it  not?  " 

"  Very,"  said  Horace  guiltily,  and  not  a 
little  concerned  on  the  officials'  account. 

"  A  mere  form,"  said  the  Lord  Mayor;  "  but 
I,  for  one,  Mr.  Ventimore — I,  for  one,  should  be 
sorry  to  see  these  picturesque  old  practices  die 
out.  To  my  mind,"  he  added,  as  he  finished  a 
pate  de  foie  gras  sandwich,  "  the  modern  im- 
patience to  sweep  away  all  the  ancient  land- 
marks (whether  they  be  superannuated  or  not) 
is  one  of  the  most  disquieting  symptoms  of  the 
age.  You  won't  have  any  more  champagne? 
Then  I  think  we  had  better  be  making  our  way 
to  the  Great  Hall  for  the  event  of  the  day." 

"  I'm  afraid,"  said  Horace,  with  a  sudden 
consciousness  of  his  Oriental  attire,  "  I'm  afraid 
this  is  not  quite  the  sort  of  dress  for  such  a  cere- 
mony.    If  I  had  known " 

"  Now  don't  say  another  word,"  said  the 
Lord  Mayor.  "  Your  costume  is  very  nice — 
very  nice,  indeed — and — and  most  appropriate, 
I  am  sure.  But  I  see  the  city  marshal  is  wait- 
ing for  us  to  head  the  procession.  Shall  we 
lead  the  way?  " 

The  band  struck  up  the  March  of  the  Priests 
from  Athalie,  and  Horace,  his  head  in  a  whirl, 
walked  with  his  host,  followed  by  the  City  Lands 


A  KILLING   FROST  287 

Committee,  the  sheriffs,  and  other  dignitaries, 
through  the  Art  Gallery  and  into  the  Great 
Hall,  where  their  entrance  was  heralded  by  a 
flourish  of  trumpets. 

The  hall  was  crowded,  and  Yentimore  found 
himself  the  object  of  a  popular  demonstration 
which  would  have  filled  him  with  joy  and  pride 
if  he  could  only  have  felt  that  he  had  done  any- 
thing whatever  to  justify  it,  for  it  was  ridicu- 
lous to  suppose  that  he  had  rendered  himself  a 
public  benefactor  by  restoring  a  convicted  Jin- 
nee to  freedom  and  society  generally.  His  only 
consolation  was  that  the  English  are  a  race  not 
given  to  effusiveness  without  very  good  reason, 
and  that  he  would  find  out  before  the  ceremony 
was  over  what  were  the  particular  services 
which  had  excited  so  much  enthusiasm. 

Meanwhile  he  stood  there  on  the  crimson- 
draped  and  flower-bedecked  dais,  bowing  repeat- 
edly and  trusting  that  he  did  not  look  so  for- 
lornly foolish  as  he  felt.  A  long  shaft  of  sun- 
light struck  down  between  the  Gothic  rafters 
and  dappled  the  brown  stone-walls  with  patches 
of  gold;  the  electric  lights  in  the  big-hooped 
chandeliers  showed  pale  and  feeble  against  the 
subdued  glow  of  the  stained  glass;  the  air  was 
heavy  with  the  scent  of  flowers  and  essences; 
there  was  a  rustle  of  expectation  in  the  audi- 


288  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

ence,  and  a  pause  in  which  it  seemed  to  Horace 
that  everybody  on  the  dais  was  almost  as  nervous 
and  at  a  loss  what  to  do  as  he  was  himself.  He 
wished  with  all  his  soul  that  they  would  hurry 
the  ceremony  through  anyhow  and  let  him  go. 

At  length  the  proceedings  began  by  a  sort 
of  solemn  affectation  of  having  merely  met 
there  for  the  ordinary  business  of  the  day, 
which,  to  Horace  just  then,  seemed  childish  in 
the  extreme ;  it  was  resolved  that  "  items  one  to 
four  on  the  agenda  need  not  be  discussed," 
which  brought  them  to  item  five. 

Item  five  was  a  resolution,  read  by  the  town 
clerk,  that  "  the  freedom  of  the  City  should  be 
presented  to  Horace  Ventimore,  Esquire,  Citi- 
zen and  Candlestickmaker  "  (which  last  Horace 
was  not  aware  of  being,  but  supposed  vaguely 
that  it  had  been  somehow  managed  while  he 
was  at  the  buffet  in  the  Library)  "  in  recognition 
of  his  services  " — the  resolution  ran,  and  Horace 
listened  with  all  his  ears — "  especially  in  con- 
nection with — "  It  was  most  unfortunate, 
but  at  this  precise  point  the  official  was  seized 
with  an  attack  of  coughing,  in  which  all  was 
lost  but  the  conclusion  of  the  sentence — 
"  that  have  justly  entitled  him  to  the  gratitude 
and  admiration  of  his  fellow-countrymen." 

Then  the  six  compurgators  came  forward 


A  KILLING  FROST  289 

and  vouched  for  Ventimore's  fitness  to  receive 
the  freedom.  He  had  painful  doubts  whether 
they  altogether  understood  what  a  responsibility 
they  were  undertaking,  but  it  was  too  late  to 
warn  them,  and  he  could  only  trust  that  they 
knew  more  of  their  business  than  he  did. 

After  this  the  city  chamberlain  read  him 
an  address,  to  which  Horace  listened  in  resigned 
bewilderment.  The  chamberlain  referred  to 
the  unanimity  and  enthusiasm  with  which  the 
resolution  had  been  carried,  and  said  that  it  was 
his  pleasing  and  honourable  duty,  as  the  mouth- 
piece of  that  ancient  City,  to  address  what  he 
described  with  some  inadequacy  as  "  a  few 
words  "  to  one,  by  adding  whose  name  to  their 
roll  of  freemen  the  Corporation  honoured 
rather  themselves  than  the  recipient  of  their 
homage. 

It  was  flattering,  but  to  Horace's  ear  the 
phrases  sounded  excessive  —  almost  fulsome, 
though  of  course  that  depended  very  much 
on  what  he  had  done,  which  he  had  still  to 
ascertain. 

The  orator  proceeded  to  read  him  the  "  illus- 
trious list  of  London's  roll  of  fame,"  a  recital 
which  made  Horace  shiver  with  apprehension. 
For  what  names  they  were — what  glorious  deeds 
they  had  performed!    How  was  it  possible  that 


290  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

lie  —  plain  Horace  Ventimore,  a  straggling 
architect  who  had  missed  his  one  great  chance — 
could  have  achieved  (especially  without  even 
being  aware  of  it)  anything  that  would  not  seem 
ludicrously  insignificant  by  comparison? 

He  had  a  morbid  fancy  that  the  marble  god- 
desses, or  whoever  they  were,  at  the  base  of 
Nelson's  Monument  opposite  were  regarding 
him  with  stony  disdain  and  indignation;  that 
the  statue  of  Wellington  knew  him  for  an  arrant 
impostor  and  averted  his  head  with  cold  con- 
tempt ;  and  that  the  effigy  of  Lord  Mayor  Beck- 
ford  on  the  right  of  the  dais  would  come  to  life 
and  denounce  him  in  another  moment. 

"  Turning  now  to  your  own  distinguished 
services,"  he  suddenly  heard  the  city  chamber- 
lain resuming,  "  you  are  probably  aware,  sir, 
that  it  is  customary  on  these  occasions  to  men- 
tion specifically  the  particular  merit  which  has 
been  deemed  worthy  of  civic  recognition." 

Horace  was  greatly  relieved  to  hear  it,  for  it 
struck  him  as  a  most  sensible,  and,  in  his  own 
particular  case,  essential  formality. 

"  But,  on  the  present  occasion,  sir,"  pro- 
ceeded the  speaker,  "  I  feel,  as  all  present  must 
feel,  that  it  would  be  unnecessary — nay,  almost 
impertinent — were  I  to  weary  the  public  ear  by 
a  halting  recapitulation  of  deeds  with  which 


A  KILLING  FROST  291 

it  is  already  so  appreciatively  familiar."  At 
this  he  was  interrupted  by  deafening  and  long- 
continued  applause,  at  the  end  of  which  he  con- 
tinued :  "  I  have  only,  therefore,  to  greet  you 
in  the  name  of  the  Corporation  and  to  offer  you 
the  right  hand  of  fellowship  as  a  Freeman  and 
Citizen  and  Candlestickmaker  of  London." 

As  he  shook  hands  he  presented  Horace  with 
a  cop_y  of  the  oath  of  allegiance,  intimating  that 
he  was  to  read  it  aloud.  Naturally  Yentimore 
had  not  the  slightest  objection  to  swear  to  be 
good  and  true  to  Our  Sovereign  Lady  Queen 
Victoria,  or  to  be  obedient  to  the  Lord  Mayor, 
and  warn  him  of  any  conspiracies  against  the 
Queen's  peace  which  might  chance  to  come 
under  his  observation,  so  he  took  the  oath  cheer- 
fully enough,  and  hoped  that  this  was  really  the 
end  of  the  ceremony. 

However,  to  his  great  chagrin  and  appre- 
hension, the  Lord  Mayor  rose  with  the  evident 
intention  of  making  a  speech.  He  said  that  the 
conclusion  of  the  City  to  bestow  the  highest 
honour  in  their  gift  upon  Mr.  Horace  Venti- 
more  had  been — here  he  hesitated — somewhat 
hastily  arrived  at.  Personally  he  would  have 
liked  a  longer  time  to  prepare,  to  make  the  dis- 
play less  inadequate  to  and  worthier  of  this 
exceptional  occasion.    He  thought  that  was  the 


292  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

general  feeling.  (It  evidently  was,  judging 
from  the  loud  and  unanimous  cheering.)  How- 
ever, for  reasons  which — reasons  with  which 
they  were  as  well  acquainted  as  himself,  the 
notice  had  been  short.  The  Corporation  had 
yielded  (as  they  always  did,  as  it  would  always 
be  their  pride  and  pleasure  to  yield)  to  popular 
pressure  which  was  practically  irresistible,  and 
had  done  the  best  they  could  in  the  limited — he 
might  almost  say  the  unprecedentedly  limited — 
period  allowed  them.  The  proudest  leaf  in  Mr. 
Ventimore's  chaplet  of  laurels  to-day  was,  he 
would  venture  to  assert,  the  sight  of  the  ex- 
traordinary enthusiasm  and  assemblage,  not 
only  in  that  noble  hall,  but  in  the  thoroughfares 
of  this  mighty  metropolis.  Under  the  circum- 
stances, this  was  a  truly  marvellous  tribute  to 
the  admiration  and  affection  which  Mr.  Venti- 
more  had  succeeded  in  inspiring  in  the  great 
heart  of  the  people,  rich  and  poor,  high  and 
low.  He  would  not  detain  his  hearers  any 
longer;  all  that  remained  for  him  to  do  was  to 
ask  Mr.  Ventimore's  acceptance  of  a  golden 
casket  containing  the  roll  of  freedom,  and  he 
felt  sure  that  his  distinguished  guest,  before 
proceeding  to  inscribe  his  name  on  the  regis- 
ter, would  oblige  them  all  by  some  account 
from  his  own  lips  of — of  the  events  in  which 


A  KILLING  FROST  293 

he  had  figured  so  prominently  and  so   cred- 
itably. 

Horace  received  the  casket  mechanically; 
there  was  a  universal  cry  of  "  Speech!  "  from 
the  audience,  to  which  he  replied  by  shaking  his  . 
head  in  helpless  deprecation,  but  in  vain;  he 
found  himself  irresistibly  pressed  toward  the 
rail  in  front  of  the  dais,  and  the  roar  of  applause 
which  greeted  him  saved  him  from  all  neces- 
sity of  attempting  to  speak  for  nearly  two  min- 
utes. 

During  that  interval  he  had  time  to  clear  his 
brain  and  think  what  he  had  better  do  or  say 
in  his  present  unenviable  dilemma.  For  some 
time  past  a  suspicion  had  been  growing  in  his 
mind,  until  it  had  now  almost  swollen  into  cer- 
tainty. He  felt  that  before  he  compromised 
himself,  or  allowed  his  too  generous  entertainers 
to  compromise  themselves  irretrievably,  it  was 
absolutely  necessary  to  ascertain  his  real  posi- 
tion, and  to  do  that  he  must  make  some  sort  of 
speech.  With  this  resolve  all  his  nervousness 
and  embarrassment  and  indecision  melted  away; 
he  faced  the  assembly  coolly  and  gallantly,  con- 
vinced that  his  best  alternative  now  lay  in  per- 
fect candour. 

"  My  Lord  Mayor,  my  lords,  ladies,  and 
gentlemen,"  he  began,  in  a  clear  voice  which 


294  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

penetrated  to  the  farthest  gallery  and  com- 
manded instant  attention.  "  If  you  expect  to 
hear  from  me  any  description  of  what  I've  done 
to  be  received  like  this,  I'm  afraid  you  will  be 
disappointed.  For  my  own  belief  is  that  I've 
done  nothing  whatever." 

There  was  a  general  outcry  of  "  No,  no !  " 
at  this,  and  a  fervid  murmur  of  protest. 

"  It's  all  very  well  to  say  *  no,  no,'  "  said 
Horace,  "  and  I  am  extremely  grateful  to  you 
all  for  the  interruption.  Still  I  can  only  repeat 
that  I  am  absolutely  unaware  of  having  ever 
rendered  my  country  or  this  great  City  a  single 
service  deserving  of  the  slightest  acknowledg- 
ment. I  wish  I  could  feel  I  had,  but  the  simple 
truth  is  that,  if  I  have,  the  fact  has  entirely 
slipped  from  my  memory." 

Again  there  were  murmurs — this  time  with 
a  certain  undercurrent  of  irritation;  and  he 
could  hear  the  Lord  Mayor  behind  him  remark- 
ing to  the  city  chamberlain  that  this  was  not 
at  all  the  kind  of  speech  for  the  occasion. 

"  I  know  what  you're  all  thinking,"  said 
Horace.  "  You're  thinking  this  is  mock  mod- 
esty on  my  part.  But  it's  nothing  of  the  sort. 
I  don't  know  what  I've  done,  but  I  presume  you 
are  all  better  informed.  Because  the  Corpora- 
tion would  not  have  given  me  that  very  charm- 


A  KILLING  FROST  295 

ing  casket  and  you  would  not  all  of  you  be  here 
like  this  unless  there  were  a  strong  impression 
that  I'd  done  something  to  deserve  it."  At 
this  there  was  a  fresh  outburst  of  applause. 

"  Just  so,"  said  Horace  calmly.  "  Well, 
now,  will  any  of  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me, 
in  a  few  words,  what  you  suppose  I've  done  ?  " 

There  was  a  dead  silence,  in  which  every  one 
looked  at  his  or  her  neighbour  and  smiled  feebly. 

"  My  Lord  Mayor,"  continued  Horace,  "  I 
appeal  to  you  to  tell  me  and  this  distinguished 
assembly  why  on  earth  we're  all  here  ? " 

The  Lord  Mayor  rose.  "  I  think  it  sufficient 
to  say,"  he  announced,  with  dignity,  "  that  the 
Corporation  and  myself  were  unanimously  of 
opinion  that  this  distinction  should  be  awarded, 
for  reasons  which  it  is  unnecessary  and — hum — 
ha — invidious  to  enter  into  here " 

"  I  am  sorry,"  persisted  Horace,  "  but  I 
must  press  your  lordship  for  those  reasons.  I 
have  an  object.  .  .  .  Will  the  city  chamberlain 
oblige  me,  then?  .  .  .  !No?  Well,  then,  the 
town  clerk?  .  .  .  ~No,  it's  just  as  I  suspected; 
none  of  you  can  give  me  your  reasons,  and  shall 
I  tell  you  why?  Because  there  aren't  any.  .  .  . 
Now  do  bear  with  me  for  a  moment.  I'm  quite 
aware  this  is  very  embarrassing  for  all  of  you, 
but  remember  that  it's  infinitely  more  awkward 


296  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE, 

for  me  !  I  really  can  not  accept  the  freedom  of 
the  City  under  any  suspicion  of  false  pretences. 
It  would  be  a  poor  reward  for  your  hospitality, 
and  base  and  unpatriotic  into  the  bargain,  to 
depreciate  the  value  of  so  great  a  distinction  by 
permitting  it  to  be  conferred  unworthily.  If, 
after  you've  heard  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you, 
you  still  insist  on  my  accepting  such  an  honour, 
of  course  I  will  not  be  so  ungracious  as  to  refuse 
it;  but  I  really  don't  feel  that  it  would  be  right 
to  inscribe  my  name  on  your  roll  of  fame  with- 
out some  sort  of  explanation.  If  I  did,  I  might, 
for  anything  I  know,  involuntarily  be  signing 
the  death-warrant  of  the  Corporation." 

There  was  a  breathless  hush  on  this.  The 
silence  grew  so  intense  that,  to  borrow  a  slightly 
involved  metaphor  from  a  distinguished  friend 
of  the  writer,  "  you  might  have  picked  a  pin 
up  in  it."  Horace  leaned  sideways  against  the 
rail  in  an  easy  attitude,  so  as  to  face  the  Lord 
Mayor  as  well  as  a  portion  of  his  audience. 

"  Before  I  go  any  farther,"  he  said,  "  will 
your  lordship  pardon  me  if  I  suggest  that  it 
might  be  as  well  to  direct  that  all  reporters  pres- 
ent should  immediately  withdraw? " 

The  reporters'  table  was  instantly  in  a  stir 
of  anger,  and  many  of  the  guests  expressed  some 
dissatisfaction.     "  We,  at  least,"  said  the  Lord 


A  KILLING  FROST  297 

Mayor,  rising,  flushed  with  annoyance,  "have  no 
reason  to  dread  publicity.  I  decline  to  make 
a  hole-and-corner  affair  of  this.  I  shall  give  no 
such  orders." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Horace,  when  the  chorus 
of  approval  had  subsided.  "  My  suggestion  was 
made  quite  as  much  in  the  Corporation's  in- 
terests as  in  mine.  I  merely  thought  that  when 
you  all  clearly  understood  how  grossly  you've 
been  deluded  you  might  prefer  to  have  the  de- 
tails kept  out  of  the  newspapers  if  possible.  But 
if  you  particularly  want  them  published  over 
the  whole  world,  why,  of  course " 

An  uproar  followed  here,  under  cover  of 
which  the  Lord  Mayor  contrived  to  give  orders 
to  have  the  doors  fastened  till  further  directions. 

"  Don't  make  this  more  difficult  and  dis- 
agreeable for  me  than  it  is  already,"  said  Hor- 
ace, as  soon  as  he  could  obtain  a  hearing  again. 
"  You  don't  suppose  that  I  should  have  come 
here  in  this  tomfool  dress,  imposing  myself  on 
the  hospitality  of  this  great  City,  if  I  could  have 
helped  it.  If  you've  been  brought  here  under 
false  pretences,  so  have  I.  If  you've  been  made 
to  look  rather  foolish,  what  is  your  situation  to 
mine?  The  fact  is,  I  am  the  victim  of  a  head- 
strong force  which  I  am  utterly  unable  to  con- 
trol .  .  ." 


298  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

Upon  this  a  fresh  uproar  arose  and  for 
some  time  prevented  him  from  continuing.  "  I 
only  ask  for  fair  play  and  a  patient  hearing," 
he  pleaded.  "  Give  me  that,  and  I  will  under- 
take to  restore  you  all  to  good  humour  before 
I  have  done." 

They  calmed  down  at  this  appeal,  and  he 
was  able  to  proceed.  "  My  case  is  simply  this," 
he  said :  "  A  short  time  since,  I  happened  to  go 
to  an  auction  and  buy  a  large  brass  bottle " 

For  some  reason  his  last  words  roused  the 
audience  to  absolute  frenzy — they  would  not 
hear  anything  about  the  brass  bottle ;  every  time 
he  attempted  to  mention  it  they  howled  him 
down;  they  hissed,  they  groaned,  they  shook 
their  fists;  the  din  was  positively  deafening. 

Nor  was  the  demonstration  confined  to  the 
male  portion  of  the  assembly.  One  lady,  indeed, 
who  is  a  prominent  leader  in  society,  but  whose 
name  shall  not  be  divulged  here,  was  so  carried 
away  by  her  feelings  as  to  hurl  a  heavy  cut- 
glass  bottle  of  smelling-salts  at  Horace's  un- 
fortunate head.  Luckily  for  him,  it  missed 
him  and  only  caught  one  of  the  officials  (Horace 
was  not  in  a  mood  to  notice  details  very  accu- 
rately, but  he  had  a  notion  that  it  was  the  city 
remembrancer)  somewhere  about  the  region  of 
the  watch-pocket. 


A  KILLING  FROST  299 

"Will  you  hear  me  out?"  Ventimore 
shouted.  "  I'm  not  trifling.  I  haven't  told  you 
yet  what  was  inside  the  bottle.  When  I  opened 
it,  I  found " 

He  got  no  farther,  for,  as  the  words  left  his 
lips,  he  felt  himself  seized  by  the  collar  of  his 
coat  and  lifted  off  his  feet  by  an  agency  he  was 
powerless  to  resist. 

Up  and  up  he  was  carried,  past  the  great 
chandeliers,  between  the  carved  and  gilded 
rafters,  pursued  by  a  universal  shriek  of  dismay 
and  horror.  Down  below  he  could  see  the 
throng  of  pale  upturned  faces,  and  hear  the 
wild  screams  and  laughter  in  violent  hysterics  of 
several  ladies  of  great  distinction.  And  the 
next  moment  he  was  in  the  glass  lantern,  and 
the  latticed  panes  gave  way  like  tissue-paper 
as  he  broke  through  into  the  outer  air,  causing 
the  pigeons  on  the  roof  to  whir  up  in  a  flutter 
of  alarm. 

Of  course  he  knew  that  it  was  the  Jinnee 
who  was  abducting  him  in  this  sensational  man- 
ner, and  he  was  rather  relieved  than  alarmed  by 
Fakrash's  summary  proceeding,  for  he  seemed 
for  once  to  have  hit  upon  the  best  way  out  of 
a  situation  that  was  rapidly  becoming  impossible. 


20 


CHAPTER  xyn 

HIGH   WORDS 

Once  outside  in  the  open  air,  the  Jinnee 
"  towered  "  like  a  pheasant  shot  through  the 
head,  and  Horace  closed  his  eyes  with  a  swing- 
switchback  and  channel-passage  sensation  dur- 
ing a  flight  which  apparently  continued  for 
hours,  although  in  reality  it  probably  did  not 
occupy  more  than  a  very  few  seconds.  His  un- 
easiness was  still  further  increased  by  his  in- 
ability to  guess  where  he  was  being  taken  to, 
for  he  felt  instinctively  that  they  were  not 
travelling  in  the  direction  of  home. 

At  last  he  felt  himself  set  down  on  some 
hard,  firm  surface,  and  ventured  to  open  his  eyes 
once  more.  When  he  realized  where  he  actually 
was,  his  knees  gave  way  under  him,  and  he  was 
seized  with  a  sudden  giddiness  that  very  nearly 
made  him  lose  his  balance. 

For  he  found  himself  standing  on  a  sort  of 
narrow  ledge  or  cornice  just  under  the  ball  at 
the  top  of  St.  Paul's. 
300 


HIGH  WORDS  301 

Many  feet  beneath  him  spread  the  dull 
leaden  summit  of  the  dome,  its  raised  ridges 
stretched  like  huge  serpents  over  the  curve, 
beyond  which  was  a  glimpse  of  the  green  roof 
of  the  nave  and  the  two  west  towers,  with  their 
gray  columns  and  urn-topped  buttresses,  and 
gilded  pine-apples  which  shone  ruddily  in  the 
sun. 

He  had  an  impression  of  Ludgate  Hill  and 
Fleet  Street  as  a  deep  winding  ravine,  steeped 
in  partial  shadow;  of  long  sierras  of  roofs  and 
chimney-pots,  showing  their  sharp  outlines 
above  mouse-coloured  smoke  wreaths;  of  the 
broad  pearly  tinted  river,  with  oily  ripples  and 
a  golden  glitter  where  the  sunlight  touched  it; 
of  the  gleaming  slope  of  mud  under  the  wharves 
and  warehouses  on  the  Surrey  side;  of  the 
moored  barges  and  steamers  lying  in  black 
clusters;  a  small  tug  was  fussing  noisily  down 
the  river,  leaving  a  broadening  arrow-head  in 
its  wake. 

Cautiously  he  moved  round  toward  the  east, 
where  the  houses  formed  a  broad  mosaic  of 
cream,  slate,  indigo,  and  dull  reds  and  browns, 
above  which  slender  rose-flushed  spires  and 
towers  pierced  the  haze,  stained  in  countless 
places  by  pillars  of  black,  gray,  and  umber 
smoke,  and  lightened  by  plumes  and  jets  of  sil- 


302  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

very  steam,  till  all  blended  by  imperceptible 
gradations  into  a  sky  of  tenderest  gold  slashed 
with  translucent  blue. 

It  was  a  magnificent  view,  and  none  the  less 
so  because  the  indistinctness  of  all  beyond  a 
limited  radius  made  the  huge  city  seem  not 
only  mystical,  but  absolutely  boundless  in  ex- 
tent. But,  although  Ventimore  was  distinctly 
conscious  of  all  this,  he  was  scarcely  in  a  state 
to  appreciate  its  grandeur  just  then.  He  was 
much  too  concerned  with  wondering  why  Fak- 
rash  had  chosen  to  plant  him  up  there  in  so  in- 
secure a  position,  and  how  he  was  ever  to  be 
rescued  from  it,  since  the  Jinnee  had  apparently 
disappeared. 

He  was  not  far  off,  however,  for  presently 
Horace  saw  him  stalk  round  the  narrow  cornice 
with  an  air  of  being  perfectly  at  home  on  it. 

"  So  there  you  are,"  said  Ventimore.  "  I 
thought  you'd  deserted  me  again.  What  have 
you  brought  me  up  here  for? " 

"  Because  I  desired  to  have  speech  with  thee 
in  private,"  replied  the  Jinnee. 

"  We're  not  likely  to  be  intruded  on  here, 
certainly,"  said  Horace.  "  But  isn't  it  rather 
exposed — rather  public?  If  we're  seen  up  here, 
you  know,  it  will  cause  a  decided  sensation." 

"  I  have  laid  a  spell  on  all  below  that  they 


HIGH  WORDS  303 

should  not  raise  their  eyes.  Be  seated,  there- 
fore, and  hear  my  words." 

Horace  lowered  himself  carefully  to  a  sit- 
ting position,  so  that  his  legs  dangled  in  space, 
and  Fakrash  took  a  seat  by  his  side.  "  O  most 
indiscreet  of  mankind!  "  he  began,  in  an  ag- 
grieved tone.  "  Thou  hast  been  near  the  com- 
mittal of  a  great  blunder,  and  doing  ill  to  thee 
and  to  myself." 

"Well,  I  do  like  that!"  retorted  Horace. 
"  When  you  let  me  in  for  all  the  freedom  of 
the  city  business,  and  then  sneaked  off,  leaving 
me  to  get  out  of  it  the  best  way  I  could,  and 
only  came  back  just  as  I  was  about  to  explain 
matters,  and  carried  me  up  through  the  roof  by 
my  coat  collar!  Do  you  consider  that  tactful 
on  your  part? " 

"  Thou  hadst  drunk  wine  and  permitted  it 
to  creep  as  far  as  the  place  of  secrets." 

"  Only  one  glass,"  said  Horace,  "  and  I 
wanted  it,  I  can  assure  you.  I  was  obliged  to 
make  a  speech  to  them,  and,  thanks  to  you,  I 
was  in  such  a  hole  that  I  saw  nothing  for  it 
but  to  tell  the  truth." 

"  Veracity,  as  thou  wilt  learn,"  answered 
the  Jinnee,  "  is  not  invariably  the  ship  of  safety. 
Thou  wert  about  to  betray  the  benefactor  who 
procured  for  thee  such  glory  and  honour  as 


304  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

might  well  cause  the  gall-bladder  of  lions  to 
burst  with  envy." 

"  If  any  lion  with  the  least  sense  of  humour 
could  have  witnessed  the  proceedings,"  said 
Ventimore,  "  he  might  have  burst  with  laugh- 
ter— certainly  not  envy.  Good  lord,  Fakrash !  " 
he  cried,  in  his  indignation,  "  I've  never  felt 
such  an  absolute  ass  in  my  whole  life.  If  noth- 
ing would  satisfy  you  but  my  receiving  the  free- 
dom of  the  city,  you  might  at  least  have  con- 
trived some  decent  excuse  for  it.  But  you  left 
out  the  only  point  there  was  in  the  whole  thing 
— and  all  for  what?  " 

"  What  doth  it  signify  why  the  whole  popu- 
lace should  come  forth  to  acclaim  thee  and  do 
thee  honour,  so  long  as  they  did  so? "  said  Fak- 
rash  sullenly.  "  For  the  report  of  thy  fame 
would  reach  Bedeea-el-Jemal." 

"  That's  just  where  you're  mistaken,"  said 
Horace.  "  If  you  had  not  been  in  too  desperate 
a  hurry  to  make  a  few  inquiries,  you  would  have 
found  out  that  you  are  taking  all  this  trouble 
for  nothing." 

"  How  sayest  thou?  " 

"  Well,  you  would  have  discovered  that  the 
princess  is  spared  all  temptation  to  marry  be- 
neath her  by  the  fact  that  she  became  the  bride 
of  somebody  else  about  thirty  centuries  ago. 


HIGH  WORDS  305 

She  married  a  mortal,  one  Seyf-el-Mulook,  a 
king's  son,  and  they've  both  been  dead  a  con- 
siderable time — another  obstacle  to  your  plans." 

"  It  is  a  lie !  "  declared  Fakrash. 

"  If  you  will  take  me  back  to  Vincent 
Square,  I  shall  be  happy  to  show  you  the  evi- 
dence in  your  national  records,"  said  Horace; 
"  and  you  may  be  glad  to  know  that  your  old 
enemy,  Mr.  Jarjarees,  came  to  a  violent  end 
after  a  very  sporting  encounter  with  a  king's 
daughter,  who,  though  proficient  in  advanced 
magic,  unfortunately  perished  herself,  poor 
lady,  in  the  final  round." 

"  I  had  intended  thee  to  accomplish  his 
downfall,"  said  Fakrash. 

"  I  know,"  said  Horace,  "  it  was  most 
thoughtful  of  you.  But  I  doubt  if  I  should  have 
done  it  half  so  well,  and  it  would  have  probably 
cost  me  an  eye,  at  the  very  least.  It's  better 
as  it  is." 

"  And  how  long  hast  thou  known  of  these 
things?  " 

"  Only  since  last  night." 

"  Since  last  night?  And  thou  didst  not  un- 
fold them  unto  me  till  this  instant? " 

**  I've  had  such  a  busy  morning,  you  see," 
explained  Horace.    "  There's  been  no  time." 

"  Silly  bearded  fool  that  I  was  to  bring  this 


306  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

misbegotten  dog  into  the  august  presence  of 
the  great  Lord  Mayor  himself — on  whom  be 
peace !  "  cried  the  Jinnee. 

"  I  object  to  being  referred  to  as  a  misbe- 
gotten dog,"  said  Horace,  "  but  with  the  rest 
of  your  remark  I  entirely  concur.  I'm  afraid 
the  Lord  Mayor  is  very  far  from  being  at  peace 
just  now."  He  pointed  to  the  steep  roof  of  the 
Guildhall,  with  its  dormers  and  fretted  pin- 
nacles, and  the  slender  lantern  through  which 
he  had  so  lately  made  his  inglorious  exit. 
"  There's  the  devil  of  a  row  going  on  under  that 
lantern  just  now,  Mr.  Fakrash;  you  may  depend 
upon  that.  They've  locked  the  doors  till  they 
can  decide  what  to  do  next,  which  will  take 
them  some  time.    And  it's  all  your  fault." 

"  It  was  thy  doing.  Why  didst  thou  dare 
to  inform  the  Lord  Mayor  that  he  was  de- 
ceived? " 

"  Why?  Because  I  thought  he  ought  to 
know.  Because  I  was  bound,  particularly  after 
my  oath  of  allegiance,  to  warn  him  of  any  con- 
spiracy against  him.  Because  I  was  in  such  a 
hat.  He'll  understand  all  that — he  won't  blame 
me  for  this  business." 

"  It  is  fortunate,"  observed  the  Jinnee, 
"  that  I  flew  away  with  thee  before  thou  couldst 
pronounce  my  name." 


HIGH  WORDS  307 

"  You  gave  yourself  away,"  said  Horace. 
"  They  all  saw  you,  you  know.  They'll  recog- 
nise you  again.  If  you  will  carry  off  a  man 
from  under  the  Lord  Mayor's  very  nose,  and 
shoot  up  through  the  roof  like  a  rocket  with 
him,  you  can't  expect  to  escape  remark.  You 
see,  you  happen  to  be  the  only  unbottled  Jinnee 
in  the  City." 

Fakrash  shifted  his  seat  on  the  cornice.  "  I 
have  committed  no  act  of  disrespect  unto  the 
Lord  Mayor,"  he  said ;  "  therefore  he  can  have 
no  just  cause  for  anger  against  me." 

Horace  perceived  that  the  Jinnee  was  not 
altogether  at  ease,  and  pushed  his  advantage 
accordingly. 

"  My  dear,  good  old  friend,"  he  said,  "  you 
don't  seem  to  realize  yet  what  an  awful  thing 
you've  done.  For  your  own  mistaken  purposes, 
you  have  compelled  the  Chief  Magistrate  and 
the  Corporation  of  the  greatest  city  in  the  world 
to  make  themselves  hopelessly  ridiculous. 
They'll  never  hear  the  last  of  this  affair.  Just 
look  at  the  crowds  waiting  patiently  below  there. 
Look  at  the  flags.  Think  of  that  gorgeous  con- 
veyance of  yours  standing  outside  the  Guild- 
hall. Think  of  the  assembly  inside — all  the 
most  aristocratic,  noble,  and  distinguished  per- 
sonages in  the  land,"  continued  Horace,  piling 


308  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

it  on  as  he  proceeded.  "  All  collected  for  what? 
To  be  made  fools  of  by  a  Jinnee  out  of  a  brass 
bottle!" 

"  For  their  own  sakes  will  they  preserve 
silence,"  said  Fakrash,  with  a  flash  of  unwonted 
shrewdness. 

"  Probably  they  would  hush  it  up,  if  they 
only  could,"  conceded  Horace.  "  But  how  can 
they?  What  are  they  to  say?  What  plausible 
explanation  can  they  give?  Besides,  there  is 
the  press;  you  don't  know  what  the  press  is, 
but  I  assure  you  its  power  is  tremendous — it's 
simply  impossible  to  keep  anything  secret  from 
it  nowadays.  It  has  eyes  and  ears  everywhere 
and  a  thousand  tongues.  Five  minutes  after 
the  doors  in  that  hall  are  unlocked  (and  they 
can't  keep  them  locked  much  longer)  the  re- 
porters will  be  handing  in  their  special  descrip- 
tions of  you  and  your  latest  vagaries  to  their 
respective  journals  within  half  an  hour.  Bills 
will  be  carried  through  every  quarter  of  Lon- 
don— bills  with  enormous  letters :  '  Extraordi- 
nary Scene  at  the  Guildhall!  Strange  End  to 
a  Civic  Function!  Startling  Appearance  of  an 
Oriental  Genie  in  the  City!  Abduction  of  a 
Guest  of  the  Lord  Mayor !  Intense  Excitement ! 
Full  Particulars! '  And  by  that  time  the  story 
will  have  flashed  round  the  whole  world.    Keep 


HIGH  WORDS  309 

silence,  indeed!  Do  you  imagine  for  a  moment 
that  the  Lord  Mayor  or  anybody  else  concerned, 
however  remotely,  will  ever  forget  or  be  allowed 
to  forget  such  an  outrageous  incident  as  this? 
If  you  do,  believe  me  you  are  mistaken." 

"  Truly  it  would  be  a  terrible  thing  to  incur 
the  wrath  of  the  Lord  Mayor,"  said  the  Jinnee, 
in  troubled  accents. 

"  Awful,"  said  Horace.  "  But  you  seem 
to  have  done  it." 

"  He  weareth  round  his  neck  a  magic  jewel 
which  giveth  him  dominion  over  devils — is  it 
not  so?" 

"  You  know  best,"  said  Horace. 

"  It  was  the  splendour  of  that  jewel  and  the 
majesty  of  his  countenance  that  rendered  me 
afraid  to  enter  his  presence  lest  he  should  recog- 
nise me  for  what  I  am,  and  command  me  to 
obey  him;  for  verily  his  might  is  greater  even 
than  Suleyman's  and  his  hand  heavier  upon 
such  of  the  Jinn  as  fall  into  his  power." 

"  If  that's  so,"  said  Horace,  "  I  should 
strongly  advise  you  to  find  some  way  of  putting 
things  straight  before  it's  too  late.  You've  no 
time  to  lose." 

"  Thou  sayest  well,"  said  Fakrash,  springing 
to  his  feet  and  turning  his  face  toward  Cheap- 
side. 


310  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

Horace  shuffled  himself  along  the  ledge  in  a 
seated  position  after  the  Jinnee,  and,  looking 
down  between  his  feet,  could  just  see  the  tops 
of  the  thin  and  rusty  trees  in  the  churchyard, 
the  black  and  serried  swarms  of  foreshortened 
people  in  the  street,  and  the  scarlet-rimmed 
mouths  of  chimney-pots  on  the  tiled  roofs  below. 

"  There  is  but  one  remedy  that  I  know,"  said 
the  Jinnee.  "  And  it  may  be  that  I  have  lost 
power  to  perform  it.  Yet  will  I  make  the  en- 
deavour." And,  stretching  forth  his  right  hand 
toward  the  east,  he  muttered  some  kind  of  com- 
mand or  invocation. 

Horace  almost  fell  off  the  cornice  with  ap- 
prehension of  what  might  follow.  Would  it  be 
a  thunderbolt,  a  plague,  some  frightful  convul- 
sion of  Nature?  He  felt  sure  that  Fakrash 
would  hesitate  at  no  means,  however  violent,  of 
burying  in  oblivion  all  traces  of  his  blunder,  and 
very  little  hope  that,  whatever  he  did,  it  would 
prove  anything  but  some  worse  indiscretion. 

However,  none  of  these  extreme  measures 
seemed  to  have  occurred  to  the  Jinnee,  though 
what  followed  was  strange  and  striking  enough. 

For  presently,  as  if  in  obedience  to  the  Jin- 
nee's weird  gesticulations,  a  lurid  belt  of  fog 
came  rolling  up  from  the  direction  of  the  Royal 
Exchange,  swallowing  up  building  after  build- 


HIGH  WORDS  311 

ing  in  its  rapid  course;  one  by  one  the  Guild- 
hall, Bow  Church,  Cheapside  itself,  and  the 
churchyard  disappeared,  and  Horace,  turning 
his  head  to  the  left,  saw  the  murky  tide  sweep- 
ing on  westward,  blotting  out  Ludgate  Hill,  the 
Strand,  Charing  Cross,  and  Westminster,  till  at 
last  he  and  Fakrash  were  alone  above  a  limit- 
less plain  of  bituminous  cloud,  the  only  living 
beings  left,  as  it  seemed,  in  a  blank  and  silent 
universe. 

"  Look  again !  "  said  Fakrash ;  and  Horace, 
looking  eastward,  saw  the  spire  of  Bow  Church 
rosy  once  more,  the  Guildhall  standing  clear 
and  intact,  and  the  streets  and  housetops  grad- 
ually reappearing.  Only  the.  flags,  with  their 
unrestful  shiver  and  play  of  colour,  had  disap- 
peared, and  with  them  the  waiting  crowds  and 
the  mounted  constables.  The  ordinary  traffic  of 
vans,  omnibuses,  and  cabs  was  proceeding  as  if 
it  had  never  been  interrupted;  the  clank  and 
jingle  of  harness  chains,  the  cries  and  whip- 
crackings  of  drivers,  rose  with  curious  distinct- 
ness above  the  incessant  trampling  roar  which 
is  the  ground  swell  of  the  human  ocean. 

"  That  cloud  which  thou  sawest,"  said  Fak- 
rash, "  hath  swept  away  with  it  all  memory  of 
this  day's  doings  from  the  minds  of  every  mortal 
below  us.    See,  they  go  about  their  several  busi- 


312  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

nesses,  and  all  the  past  incidents  are  to  them  as 
though  they  had  never  been." 

It  was  not  often  that  Horace  could  honestly 
commend  any  performance  of  the  Jinnee,  but 
at  this  he  could  not  restrain  his  admiration. 
"  By  Jove !  "  he  said,  "  that  certainly  gets  the 
Lord  Mayor  and  everybody  else  out  of  the 
mess  as  neatly  as  possible.  I  must  say,  Mr. 
Fakrash,  it's  much  the  best  thing  I've  seen  you 
do  yet." 

"  Wait !  "  said  the  Jinnee.  "  For  presently 
thou  shalt  see  me  perform  a  yet  more  excellent 
thing." 

There  was  a  most  unpleasant  green  glow  in 
his  eyes  and  a  bristle  in  his  thin  beard  as  he 
spoke  which  suddenly  made  Horace  feel  uncom- 
fortable. He  did  not  like  the  look  of  the  Jinnee 
at  all. 

"  I  really  think  you've  done  enough  for  to- 
day," he  said.  "  And  this  wind  up  here  is  rather 
searching.  I  shan't  be  sorry  to  find  myself  on 
the  ground  again." 

"  That,"  replied  the  Jinnee,  "  thou  shalt 
assuredly  do  before  long,  O  impudent  and  de- 
ceitful wretch !  "  And  he  laid  a  long,  lean  hand 
on  Horace's  shoulder. 

"  He  is  put  out  about  something,"  thought 
Ventimore.     "But  what?  .  .  .  My  dear  sir," 


HIGH  WORDS  313 

he  said  aloud,  "  I  don't  understand  this  tone  of 
jours.     What  have  I  done  to  offend  you? " 

"  Divinely  gifted  was  he  who  said :  '  Beware 
of  losing  hearts  in  consequence  of  injury,  for 
the  bringing  them  back  after  flight  is  difficult.'  " 

"  Excellent!  "  said  Horace.  "  But  I  don't 
quite  see  the  application." 

"  The  application,"  explained  the  Jinnee, 
"  is  that  I  am  determined  to  cast  thee  down 
from  here  with  my  own  hand." 

Horace  turned  faint  and  dizzy  for  a  moment. 
Then,  by  a  strong  effort  of  will,  he  pulled  him- 
self together. 

"  Oh,  come  now !  "  he  said.  "  You  don't 
mean  that,  you  know.  After  all  your  kindness! 
You're  much  too  good  natured,  really,  to  be 
capable  of  anything  so  atrocious." 

"  All  pity  hath  been  eradicated  from  my 
heart,"  returned  Fakrash.  "  Therefore  prepare 
to  die,  for  thou  art  presently  about  to  perish  in 
the  most  unfortunate  manner." 

Ventimore  could  not  repress  a  shudder. 
Hitherto  he  had  never  been  able  to  take  Fak- 
rash quite  seriously,  in  spite  of  all  his  super- 
natural powers ;  he  had  treated  him  with  a  half- 
kindly,  half-contemptuous  tolerance,  as  a  well- 
meaning  but  hopelessly  incompetent  old  foozle. 
That  the  Jinnee  should  ever  become  malevolent 


314:  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

toward  him  had  never  entered  his  head  till  now, 
and  yet  he  undoubtedly  had.  How  was  he  to 
cajole  and  disarm  this  formidable  being?  He 
must  keep  cool  and  act  promptly  or  he  would 
never  see  Sylvia  again. 

As  he  sat  there  on  the  narrow  ledge,  with  a 
faint  but  not  unpleasant  smell  of  hops  saluting 
his  nostrils  from  some  distant  brewery,  he  tried 
hard  to  collect  his  thoughts,  but  could  not.  He 
found  himself  instead  idly  watching  the  busy, 
jostling  crowd  below,  who  were  all  unconscious 
of  the  impending  drama  so  high  above  them. 
Just  over  the  rim  of  the  dome  he  could  see 
the  opaque  white  top  of  a  lamp  on  a  shelter, 
where  a  pigmy  constable  stood,  directing  the 
traffic. 

Would  he  look  up  if  Horace  called  for  help? 
Even  if  he  could,  what  help  could  he  render? 
All  he  could  do  would  be  to  keep  the  crowd 
back  and  send  for  a  covered  stretcher.  ~No,  he 
would  not  dwell  on  these  horrors;  he  must  fix 
his  mind  on  some  way  of  circumventing  Fak- 
rash. 

How  did  the  people  in  the  Arabian  Nights 
manage?  The  Fisherman,  for  instance.  He 
persuaded  his  Jinnee  to  return  to  the  bottle  by 
pretending  to  doubt  whether  he  had  ever  really 
been  inside  it.      But  Fakrash,  though  simple 


HIGH  WORDS  315 

enough  in  some  respects,  was  not  quite  such  a 
fool  as  that.  Sometimes  the  Jinn  could  be  molli- 
fied and  induced  to  grant  a  reprieve  by  being 
told  stories,  one  inside  the  other,  like  a  nest  of 
Oriental  boxes-  Unfortunately  Fakrash  did  not 
seem  in  the  humour  for  listening  to  apologues; 
and,  even  if  he  were,  Horace  could  not  think  of 
or  improvise  any  just  then.  "  Besides,"  he 
thought,  "  I  can't  sit  up  here  telling  him  anec- 
dotes forever.  I'd  almost  sooner  die !  "  Still  he 
remembered  that  it  was  generally  possible  to 
draw  an  Arabian  Efreet  into  discussion;  they 
all  loved  argument,  and  had  a  rough  conception 
of  justice. 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Fakrash,"  he  said,  "  that,  in 
common  fairness,  I  have  a  right  to  know  what 
offence  I  have  committed." 

"  To  recite  thy  misdeeds,"  replied  the  Jin- 
nee, "  would  occupy  much  time." 

"  I  don't  mind  that,"  said  Horace  affably. 
"  I  can  give  you  as  long  as  you  like.  I'm  in  no 
hurry." 

"  With  me  it  is  otherwise,"  retorted  Fak- 
rash, making  a  stride  toward  him.  "  Therefore 
covet  not  life,  for  thy  death  hath  become  un- 
avoidable." 

"  Before  we  part,"  said  Horace,  "  you  won't 

refuse  to  answer  one  or  two  questions? " 
21 


316  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  There  is  no  need.  For  I  am  positively 
determined  to  slay  thee." 

"  I  demand  it,"  said  Horace,  u  in  the  most 
great  name  of  the  Lord  Mayor — on  whom  be 
peace!  "  It  was  a  desperate  shot,  but  it  took 
effect.    The  Jinnee  quailed  visibly. 

"  Ask,  then,"  he  said,  "  but  briefly,  for  the 
time  groweth  short." 

Horace  determined  to  make  one  last  appeal 
to  Fakrash's  sense  of  gratitude,  since  it  had 
always  seemed  the  dominant  trait  in  his  char- 
acter. 

"  "Well,"  he  said,  "  but  for  me  wouldn't  you 
be  still  in  that  brass  bottle  ? " 

"  That,"  replied  the  Jinnee,  "  is  the  very 
reason  why  I  purpose  to  destroy  thee." 

"  Oh!  "  was  all  Horace  could  find  to  say  at 
this  most  unlooked-for  answer.  His  best  anchor, 
in  which  he  had  trusted  implicitly,  had  suddenly 
dragged,  and  he  was  drifting  fast  to  destruction. 

"  Are  there  any  other  questions  which  thou 
wouldst  ask,"  inquired  the  Jinnee,  with  grim 
consideration,  "  or  wilt  thou  encounter  thy 
doom  without  further  procrastination?  " 

Horace  was  determined  not  to  give  in  just 
yet;  he  had  a  very  bad  hand,  but  he  might  as 
well  play  the  game  out  and  trust  to  luck  to  gain 
a  stray  trick. 


HIGH  WORDS  317 

"  I  haven't  nearly  done  yet,"  he  said. 
"  And,  remember,  you've  promised  to  answer 
me  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Mayor !  " 

"  I  will  answer  one  other  question  and  no 
more,"  said  the  Jinnee,  in  an  inflexible  tone, 
and  Ventimore  realized  that  his  fate  would  de- 
pend upon  what  he  said  next. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

LETTING    HIM    GO 

"  Thy  second  question,  0  pertinacious  one !  " 
said  the  Jinnee  impatiently.  He  was  standing 
with  folded  arms  looking  down  on  Horace,  who 
was  still  seated  on  the  narrow  cornice,  not  dar- 
ing to  look  below  again  lest  he  should  lose  his 
head  altogether. 

"  I'm  coming  to  it,"  said  Ventimore.  "  I 
want  to  know  why  you  should  propose  to  dash 
me  to  pieces  in  this  unfriendly  way  as  a  return 
for  letting  you  out  of  that  bottle?  Were  you 
so  comfortable  in  it  as  all  that?  * 

"  In  the  bottle  I  was  at  least  suffered  to 
rest,  and  none  molested  me.  But  in  releasing 
me  thou  didst  perfidiously  conceal  from  me  that 
Suleyman  was  dead  and  gone,  and  that  there 
reigneth  one  in  his  stead  mightier  a  thousand- 
fold, who  afflicteth  our  race  with  labours  and 
tortures  exceeding  all  the  punishments  of  Suley- 
man." 

"  What  on  earth  have  you  got  into  your 
head?    You  can't  mean  the  Lord  Mayor!  " 
818 


LETTING  HIM  GO  319 

"Whom  else?"  said  the  Jinnee  solemnly. 
"  And  though,  for  this  once,  by  a  device,  I  have 
evaded  his  vengeance,  yet  do  I  know  full  well 
that,  either  by  virtue  of  the  magic  jewel  upon 
his  breast  or  through  that  malignant  monster 
with  the  myriad  ears  and  eyes  and  tongues 
which  thou  callest '  the  press,'  I  shall  inevitably 
fall  into  his  power  before  long." 

For  the  life  of  him,  in  spite  of  his  desperate 
plight,  Horace  could  not  help  laughing.  "  I  beg 
your  pardon,  Mr.  Fakrash,"  he  said,  as  soon  as 
he  could  speak.  "  But  the  Lord  Mayor!  It's 
really  too  absurd.  Why,  he  wouldn't  hurt  a 
hair  on  a  fly's  head." 

"  Seek  not  to  deceive  me  further,"  said  Fak- 
rash furiously.  "  Didst  thou  not  inform  me 
with  thy  own  mouth  that  the  spirits  of  earth, 
air,  water,  and  fire  were  subject  to  his  will? 
Have  I  no  eyes?  Do  I  not  behold  from  here 
the  labours  of  my  captive  brethren?  What  are 
those  on  yonder  bridges  but  enslaved  Jinn, 
shrieking  and  groaning  in  clanking  fetters,  and 
snorting  forth  steam,  as  they  drag  their  wheeled 
burdens  behind  them?  Are  there  not  others 
toiling  with  panting  efforts  through  the  slug- 
gish waters;  others,  again,  imprisoned  in  lofty 
pillars,  from  which  the  smoke  of  their  breath 
ascendeth  into  heaven?    Doth  not  the  air  throb 


320  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

and  quiver  with  their  restless  struggles  as  they 
writhe  below  in  darkness  and  torment?  And 
thou  hast  the  shamelessness  to  pretend  that 
these  things  are  done  in  the  Lord  Mayor's  own 
realms  without  his  knowledge!  Verily  thou 
must  take  me  for  a  fool." 

"  After  all,"  reflected  Yentimore,  "  if  he 
chooses  to  consider  that  railway  engines  and 
steamers  and  machinery  generally  are  inhabited 
by  so  many  Jinn  '  doing  time,'  it's  not  to  my  in- 
terest to  undeceive  him;  indeed,  it's  quite  the 
other  way." 

"I  wasn't  aware  the  Lord  Mayor  had  so 
much  power  as  all  that,"  he  said;  "  but  very 
likely  you're  right.  And  if  you're  so  anxious 
to  keep  in  favour  with  him  it  would  be  a 
great  mistake  to  kill  me.  That  would  annoy 
him." 

"  Not  so,"  said  the  Jinnee.  "  For  I  should 
declare  that  thou  hadst  spoken  slightingly  of 
him  in  my  hearing,  and  I  had  slain  thee  on  that 
account." 

"  Your  proper  course,"  said  Horace,  "  would 
be  to  hand  me  over  to  him  and  let  him  deal 
with  the  case.    Much  more  regular." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  Fakrash,  "  but  I  have 
conceived  so  bitter  a  hatred  to  thee  by  reason 
of  thy  insolence  and  treachery  that  I  can  not 


LETTING  HIM  GO  321 

forego  the  delight  of  slaying  thee  with  my  own 
hand." 

"  Can't  you  really!  "  said  Horace,  on  the 
verge  of  despair.  "  And  then  what  will  you 
do?" 

"  Then,"  replied  the  Jinnee,  "  I  shall  flee 
away  to  Arabia,  where  I  shall  be  safe." 

"  Don't  you  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  Hor- 
ace. "  You  see  all  those  wires  stretched  on 
poles  down  there?  Those  are  pervaded  by  cer- 
tain forces  known  as  electric  currents,  and  the 
Lord  Mayor  could  send  a  message  along  them 
which  would  be  at  Baghdad  before  you  had 
flown  farther  than  Folkestone.  And  I  may 
mention  that  Arabia  is  now  more  or  less  under 
British  jurisdiction." 

He  was  bluffing,  of  course,  for  he  knew  per- 
fectly well  that,  even  if  any  extradition  treaty 
could  be  put  in  force,  the  arrest  of  a  Jinnee 
would  be  no  easy  matter. 

"  Thou  art  of  opinion,  then,  that  I  should  be 
no  safer  in  mine  own  country? "  inquired  Fak- 
rash. 

"  I  swear  by  the  name  of  the  Lord  Mayor — 
to  whom  be  all  reverence!  " — said  Horace, 
"  that  there  is  no  land  you  could  fly  to  where 
you  would  be  any  safer  than  you  are  here." 

"  If  I  were  but  sealed  up  in  my  bottle  once 


322  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

more,"  said  the  Jinnee,  "  would  not  even  the 
Lord  Mayor  have  respect  unto  the  seal  of  Suley- 
man  and  forbear  to  disturb  me  ? " 

"  Why,  of  course  he  would !  "  cried  Horace, 
hardly  daring  to  believe  his  ears.  "  That's 
really  a  brilliant  idea  of  yours,  my  dear  Mr. 
Fakrash." 

"  And  in  the  bottle  I  should  not  be  com- 
pelled to  work,"  continued  the  Jinnee,  "  for 
labour  of  all  kinds  hath  ever  been  abhorrent 
unto  me." 

"  I  can  quite  understand  that,"  said  Horace 
sympathetically.  "  Just  imagine  your  having  to 
drag  an  excursion  train  to  the  seaside  on  a  bank 
holiday,  or  being  condemned  to  print  off  a  cheap 
comic  paper,  or  even  the  War  Cry,  when  you 
might  be  leading  a  snug  and  idle  existence  in 
your  bottle.  If  I  were  you,  I  should  go  and 
get  inside  at  once.  Suppose  we  go  back  to  Vin- 
cent Square  and  find  it  ?  " 

"  I  shall  return  to  the  bottle,  since  in  that 
alone  there  is  safety,"  said  the  Jinnee.  "  But 
I  shall  return  alone." 

"  Alone !  "  cried  Horace.  "  You're  not 
going  to  leave  me  stuck  up  here  by  my- 
self? " 

"  By  no  means ! "  replied  the  Jinnee. 
"  Have  I  not  said  that  I  am  about  to  cast  thee 


LETTING  HIM  GO  323 

to  perdition?  Too  long  have  I  delayed  in  the 
accomplishment  of  this  duty!  " 

Once  more  Horace  gave  himself  up  for  lost, 
which  was  doubly  bitter,  just  when  he  had 
begun  to  consider  that  the  danger  was  past. 
But  even  then  he  was  determined  to  fight  to 
the  last. 

"  One  moment !  "  he  said.  "  Of  course  if 
you've  set  your  heart  on  pitching  me  over,  you 
must.  Only — I  may  be  quite  mistaken — but 
I  don't  quite  see  how  you're  going  to  manage 
the  rest  of  your  programme  without  me;  that's 
all." 

"  O  deficient  in  intelligence !  "  cried  the  Jin- 
nee.   "  What  assistance  canst  thou  render  me  ?  " 

"  "Well,"  said  Horace,  "  of  course  you  can 
get  into  the  bottle  alone — that's  simple  enough. 
But  the  difficulty  I  see  is  this:  Are  you  quite 
sure  you  can  put  the  cap  on  yourself — from  the 
inside,  you  know?  If  he  can,"  he  thought, 
"  I'm  done  for." 

"  That,"  began  the  Jinnee,  with  his  usual 
confidence,  "  will  be  the  easiest  of —  Nay,"  he 
corrected  himself,  "  there  be  things  that  not 
even  the  Jinn  themselves  can  accomplish,  and 
one  of  them  is  to  seal  a  vessel  while  remaining 
within  it.  I  am  indebted  to  thee  for  reminding 
me  thereof." 


324  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Ventimore.  "  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  come  and  seal  you  up  comfortably 
myself." 

"  Again  thou  speakest  folly !  "  exclaimed 
the  Jinnee.  "  How  canst  thou  seal  me  up  after 
I  have  dashed  thee  into  a  thousand  pieces?  " 

"  That,"  said  Horace,  with  all  the  urbanity 
he  could  command,  "  is  precisely  the  difficulty 
I  was  trying  to  convey." 

"  There  will  be  no  difficulty,  for  as  soon  as 
I  am  in  the  bottle  I  shall  summon  certain  in- 
ferior Efreets,  and  they  will  replace  the  seal." 

"  When  you  are  once  in  the  bottle,"  said 
Horace,  at  a  venture,  "  you  probably  won't  be 
in  a  position  to  summon  anybody." 

"  Before  I  get  into  the  bottle,  then,"  said 
the  Jinnee  impatiently.  "  Thou  dost  but  juggle 
with  words." 

"  But  about  those  Efreets,"  persisted  Hor- 
ace. "  You  know  what  Efreets  are.  How  can 
you  be  sure  that  when  they've  got  you  in  the 
bottle  they  won't  hand  you  over  to  the  Lord 
Mayor?  I  shouldn't  trust  them  myself,  but  of 
course  you  know  best !  " 

"  Whom  shall  I  trust,  then?  "  said  Fakrash, 
frowning. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  It's  rather  a  pity 
you're  so  determined  to  destroy  me,  because, 


LETTING  HIM  GO  325 

as  it  happens,  I'm  just  the  one  person  living 
who  could  be  depended  on  to  seal  you  up  and 
keep  your  secret.  However,  that's  your  affair. 
After  all,  why  should  I  care  what  becomes  of 
you?     I  shan't  be  there." 

"  Even  at  this  hour,"  said  the  Jinnee  un- 
decidedly, "  I  might  find  it  in  my  heart  to  spare 
thee  were  I  but  sure  that  thou  wouldst  be  faith- 
ful unto  me." 

"  I  should  have  thought  I  was  more  to  be 
trusted  than  one  of  your  beastly  Efreets,"  said 
Horace,  with  well-assumed  indifference.  "  But, 
never  mind,  I  don't  know  that  I  care,  after  all. 
I've  nothing  particular  to  live  for  now.  You've 
ruined  me  pretty  thoroughly,  and  you  may  as 
well  finish  your  work.  I've  a  good  mind  to 
jump  over  to  save  you  the  trouble.  Perhaps, 
when  you  see  me  bouncing  down  that  dome, 
you'll  be  sorry." 

"  Refrain  from  rashness !  "  said  the  Jinnee 
hastily,  without  suspecting  that  Ventimore  had 
no  serious  intention  of  carrying  out  his  threat. 
"  If  thou  wilt  do  as  thou  art  bidden,  I  will  not 
only  pardon  thee,  but  grant  thee  all  that  thou 
desirest." 

"  Take  me  back  to  Vincent  Square  first," 
said  Horace.  "  This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss 
business." 


326  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  Thou  sayest  rightly,"  replied  the  Jinnee. 
"  Hold  fast  to  my  sleeve  and  I  will  transport 
thee  to  thine  abode." 

"  Not  till  you  promise  to  play  fair,"  said 
Horace,  pausing  on  the  brink  of  the  ledge. 
"  Remember,  if  you  let  me  drop  now,  you  lose 
the  only  friend  you've  got  in  the  world." 

"  May  I  be  thy  ransom !  "  replied  Fakrash. 
"  There  shall  not  be  harmed  a  hair  of  thy 
head!  " 

Even  then  Horace  had  his  misgivings;  but 
as  there  was  no  other  way  of  getting  off  that 
cornice  he  decided  to  take  the  risk. 

And,  as  it  proved,  he  acted  judiciously,  for 
the  Jinnee  flew  to  Vincent  Square  with  honour- 
able precision,  and  dropped  him  neatly  into  the 
arm-chair  in  which  he  had  little  hoped  ever  to 
find  himself  again. 

"  I  have  brought  thee  hither,"  said  Fakrash, 
"  and  yet  I  am  persuaded  that  thou  art  even 
now  devising  treachery  against  me,  and  wilt 
betray  me  if  thou  canst." 

Horace  was  about  to  assure  him  once  more 
that  no  one  could  be  more  anxious  than  himself 
to  see  him  safely  back  in  his  bottle,  when  he 
recollected  that  it  was  impolitic  to  appear  too 
eager. 

"  After  the  way  you've  behaved,"  he  said, 


LETTING  HIM  GO  327 

"  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  I  ought  to  help  you. 
Still,  I  said  I  would  on  certain  conditions,  and 
I'll  keep  my  word!  " 

"  Conditions! "  thundered  the  Jinnee. 
"  Wilt  thou  bargain  with  me  yet  further?  " 

"  My  excellent  friend,"  said  Horace  quietly, 
"  you  know  perfectly  well  that  you  can't  get 
yourself  safely  sealed  up  again  in  that  bottle 
without  my  assistance.  If  you  don't  like  my 
terms,  and  prefer  to  take  your  chance  of  finding 
an  Efreet  who  is  willing  to  brave  the  Lord 
Mayor,  well,  you've  only  to  say  so." 

"  I  have  loaded  thee  with  all  manner  of 
riches  and  favours,  and  I  will  bestow  no  more 
upon  thee,"  said  the  Jinnee  sullenly.  "  Nay, 
in  token  of  my  displeasure,  I  will  deprive  thee 
even  of  such  gifts  as  thou  hast  retained."  He 
pointed  his  gray  forefinger  at  Ventimore,  whose 
turban  and  jewelled  robes  instantly  shrivelled 
into  cobwebs  and  tinder  and  fluttered  to  the 
carpet  in  filmy  shreds,  leaving  him  in  nothing 
but  his  underclothing. 

"  That  only  shows  what  a  nasty  temper 
you're  in,"  said  Horace  blandly,  "  and  doesn't 
annoy  me  in  the  least.  If  you'll  excuse  me, 
I'll  go  and  put  on  some  things  I  can  feel  more 
at  home  in,  and  perhaps  by  the  time  I  return 
you'll  have  cooled  down." 


328  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

He  slipped  on  some  clothes  hurriedly,  and 
re-entered  the  sitting-room.  "  Now,  Mr.  Fak- 
rash,"  he  said,  "  we'll  have  this  out.  You  talk 
of  having  loaded  me  with  benefits.  You  seem 
to  consider  I  ought  to  be  grateful  to  you.  In 
Heaven's  name,  for  what?  I've  been  as  for- 
bearing as  possible  all  this  time  because  I  gave 
you  credit  for  meaning  well.  Now  I'll  speak 
plainly.  I  told  you  from  the  first,  and  I  tell 
you  now,  that  I  want  no  riches  nor  honours  from 
you.  The  one  real  good  turn  you  did  me  was 
bringing  me  that  client,  and  you  spoiled  that  be- 
cause you  would  insist  on  building  the  palace 
yourself  instead  of  leaving  it  to  me.  As  for 
the  rest,  here  am  I,  a  ruined  and  discredited 
man,  with  a  client  who  probably  supposes  I'm 
in  league  with  the  devil;  with  the  girl  I  love, 
and  might  have  married,  believing  that  I  have 
left  her  to  marry  a  princess;  and  her  father,  who 
will  never  forgive  me  for  having  seen  him  as  a 
one-eyed  mule.  In  short,  I'm  in  such  a  mess  all 
round  that  I  don't  care  two  straws  whether  I 
live  or  die." 

"  What  is  all  this  to  me?  "  said  the  Jinnee. 

"  Only  this — that  unless  you  can  see  your 
way  of  putting  things  straight  for  me  I'm 
hanged  if  I  take  the  trouble  to  seal  you  up  in 
that  bottle!  " 


LETTING  HIM  GO  329 

"  How  am  I  to  put  things  straight  for 
thee  ?  "  cried  Fakrash  peevishly. 

"  If  you  could  make  all  those  people  entirely 
forget  that  affair  in  the  Guildhall,  you  can  make 
my  friends  forget  the  brass  bottle  and  every- 
thing connected  with  it,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  There  would  be  no  difficulty  in  that,"  Fak- 
rash admitted. 

"  Well,  do  it,  and  I'll  swear  to  seal  you  up 
in  the  bottle  exactly  as  if  you  had  never  been 
out  of  it,  and  pitch  you  into  the  deepest  part  of 
the  Thames,  where  no  one  will  ever  disturb 
you." 

"  First  produce  the  bottle,  then,"  said  Fak- 
rash, "  for  I  can  not  believe  but  that  thou  hast 
some  guile  in  thy  heart." 

"  I'll  ring  for  my  landlady  and  have  the 
bottle  brought  up,"  said  Horace.  "  Perhaps 
that  will  satisfy  you.  Stay!  You'd  better  not 
let  her  see  you." 

"  I  will  render  myself  invisible,"  said  the 
Jinnee,  suiting  the  action  to  his  words.  "  But 
beware  lest  thou  play  me  false,"  his  voice  con- 
tinued, "  for  I  shall  hear  thee !  " 

"  So  you've  come  in,  Mr.  Ventimore  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Rapkin,  as  she  entered.  "And  without  the 
furrin'  gentleman?  I  was  surprised,  and  so  was 
Rapkin  the  same,  to  see  you  riding  off  this  morn- 


330  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

ing  in  that  gorgeous  chariot  and  'orses  and 
dressed  that  lovely!  '  Depend  upon  it/  I  says 
to  Rapkin,  I  says,  '  depend  upon  it,  Mr.  Yenti- 
more  '11  be  sent  for  to  Buckinham  Pallis,  if  it 
ain't  Windsor  Castle!'" 

"  Never  mind  that  now,"  said  Horace  im- 
patiently. "  I  want  that  brass  bottle  I  bought 
the  other  day.    Bring  it  up  at  once,  please !  " 

"  I  thought  you  said  the  other  day  you  never 
wanted  to  set  eyes  on  it  again,  and  I  was  to  do 
as  I  pleased  with  it,  sir? " 

"  Well,  I've  changed  my  mind,  so  let  me 
have  it  quick." 

"  I'm  sure  I'm  very  sorry,  sir,  but  that  you 
can't —  Because  Rapkin,  not  wishing  to  have 
the  place  lumbered  up  with  rubbish,  disposed 
of  it  only  last  night  to  a  gentleman  as  keeps  a 
rag-and-bone  emporium  off  the  Bridge  Road, 
and  'alf  a  crown  was  the  most  he'd  give  for  it, 
sir." 

"  Give  me  his  name,"  said  Horace. 

"  Dilger,  sir  —  Emanuel  Dilger.  When 
Rapkin  comes  in  I'm  sure  he'd  go  round,  with 
pleasure,  and  see  about  it  if  required." 

"  I'll  go  round  myself,"  said  Horace.  "  It's 
all  right,  Mrs.  Rapkin;  quite  a  natural  mistake 
on  your  part,  but — but  I  happen  to  want  the 
bottle  again.    You  needn't  stay." 


LETTING  HIM  GO  331 

"O  thou  smooth-faced  and  double-tongued 
one !  "  said  the  Jinnee,  after  she  had  gone,  as  he 
reappeared  to  view.  "  Did  I  not  foresee  that 
thou  wouldst  deal  crookedly?  Restore  unto  me 
my  bottle!  " 

"  I'll  go  and  get  it  at  once,"  said  Horace. 
"  I  shan't  be  five  minutes."  And  he  prepared 
to  go. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  leave  this  house,"  cried 
Fakrash,  "  for  I  perceive  plainly  that  this  is 
but  a  device  of  thine  to  escape  and  betray  me 
to  the  press  devil." 

"  If  you  can't  see,"  said  Horace  angrily, 
"  that  I'm  quite  as  anxious  to  see  you  safely 
back  in  that  confounded  bottle  as  ever  you  can 
be  to  get  there,  you  must  be  pretty  dense. 
Can't  you  understand?  The  bottle's  sold,  and 
I  can't  buy  it  back  without  going  out.  Don't 
be  so  unreasonable!  " 

"  Go,  then,"  said  the  Jinnee,  "  and  I  will 
await  thy  return  here.  But  know  this:  that 
if  thou  delayest  long  or  returnest  without  my 
bottle  I  shall  know  that  thou  art  a  traitor, 
and  will  visit  thee  and  those  who  are  dear 
to  thee  with  the  most  unpleasant  punish- 
ments." 

"  I'll  be  back  in  half  an  hour  at  most,"  said 
Horace,  feeling  that  this  would  allow  him  ample 
-_    22 


332  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

margin,  and  thankful  that  it  did  not  occur  to 
Fakrash  to  go  in  person. 

He  put  on  his  hat  and  hurried  off  in  the 
gathering  dusk.  He  had  some  little  trouble  in 
finding  Mr.  Dilger's  establishment,  which  was  a 
dirty,  dusty  little  place  in  a  back  street,  with 
a  few  deplorable  old  chairs,  rickety  washstands, 
and  rusty  fenders  outside,  and  the  interior 
almost  completely  blocked  by  pileti  of  dingy  mat- 
tresses, empty  clock  cases,  tarnished  and  cracked 
looking-glasses,  broken  lamps,  damaged  picture 
frames,  and  everything  else  which  one  would 
imagine  could  have  no  possible  value  for  any 
human  being.  But  in  all  this  collection  of 
worthless  curios  the  brass  bottle  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen. 

Ventimore  went  in  and  found  a  youth  of 
about  thirteen  straining  his  eyes  in  the  fading 
light  over  one  of  the  halfpenny  humorous  jour- 
nals which,  thanks  to  an  improved  system  of 
education,  at  least  eighty  per  cent  of  our  juve- 
nile population  are  now  enabled  to  appreciate. 
« "  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Dilger,"  he  began. 

"  You  can't,"  said  the  youth,  "  'cause  he 
ain't  in.    He's  attending  of  a  auction." 

"  When  will  he  be  in,  do  you  know?  " 

"  Might  be  back  to  his  tea,  but  I  wasn't  to 
expect  him  not  before  supper." 


LETTING  HIM  GO  333 

"You  don't  happen  to  have  any  old  metal 
bottles — copper  or — or  brass  would  do — for 
sale?" 

"  You  don't  git  at  me  like  that !  Bottles 
is  made  o'  glorss." 

"  Well,  a  jar,  then — a  big  brass  pot — any- 
thing of  that  kind? " 

"  Don't  keep  'em,"  said  the  boy,  and  buried 
himself  once  more  in  his  copy  of  Spicy  Snig- 
gers. 

"  I'll  look  round,"  said  Horace,  and  began 
to  poke  about  with  a  sinking  heart,  and  a  horrid 
dread  that  he  might  have  come  to  the  wrong 
shop,  for  the  big  pot-bellied  vessel  certainly  did 
not  seem  to  be  there.  At  last,  to  his  unspeak- 
able joy,  he  discovered  it  under  a  piece  of  tat- 
tered drugget.  "  Why,  this  is  the  sort  of  thing 
I  meant,"  he  said,  feeling  in  his  pocket,  and 
discovering  that  he  had  exactly  a  sovereign. 
"  How  much  do  you  want  for  it? " 

"  I  dunno,"  said  the  boy. 

"  I  don't  mind  three  shillings,"  said  Hor- 
ace, who  did  not  wish  to  appear  too  keen  at 
first. 

"  I'll  tell  the  guv'nor  when  he  comes  in," 
was  the  reply,  "  and  you  can  look  in  later." 

"  I  want  it  at  once,"  insisted  Horace. 
"  Come,  I'll  give  you  three-and-six  for  it." 


334  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  It's  more  than  it's  wurf,"  replied  the  can- 
did youth. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Horace,  "  but  I'm  rather 
pressed  for  time.  If  you'll  change  this  sover- 
eign, I'll  take  the  bottle  away  with  me." 

"  You  seem  uncommon  anxious  to  git  'old 
on  it,  mister,"  said  the  boy,  with  sudden  sus- 
picion. 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  Horace.  "  I  live  close 
by,  and  I  thought  I  might  as  well  take  it;  that's 
all." 

"  Oh,  if  that's  all,  you  can  wait  till  the 
guv'nor's  in." 

"  I — I  mayn't  be  passing  this  way  again  for 
some  time,"  said  Horace. 

"  Bound  to  be,  if  you  live  close  by ; "  and  the 
provoking  youth  returned  to  his  Sniggers. 

"  Do  you  call  this  attending  to  your  master's 
business? "  said  Horace.  "  Listen  to  me,  you 
young  rascal:  I'll  give  you  five  shillings  for  it. 
You're  not  going  to  be  fool  enough  to  refuse  an 
offer  like  that? " 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to  be  fool  enough  to  refuse 
it,  nor  yet  I  ain't  goin'  to  be  fool  enough  to 
take  it,  'cause  I'm  ony  'ere  to  see  as  nobody 
don't  come  in  and  sneak  fings.  I  ain't  got  au- 
thority to  sell  anyfink  and  I  don't  know  the 
proice  o'  nuffink,  so  there  you  'ave  it." 


LETTING  HIM  GO  335 

"  Take  the  five  shillings,"  said  Horace,  "  and 
if  it's  too  little  I'll  come  round  and  settle  with 
your  master  later." 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  wasn't  likely  to  be 
porsin'  again?  No,  mister,  you  don't  kid  me 
that  way!  " 

Horace  had  a  mad  impulse  to  snatch  up  the 
precious  bottle  then  and  there  and  make  off 
with  it,  and  might  have  yielded  to  the  tempta- 
tion with  disastrous  consequences  had  not  an 
elderly  man  entered  the  shop  at  that  moment. 
He  was  bent,  and  carried  rather  more  fluff  and 
flue  upon  his  person  than  most  well-dressed 
people  would  consider  necessary,  but  he  came  in 
with  a  certain  air  of  authority,  nevertheless. 

"  Mr.  Dilger,  sir,"  piped  the  youth,  "  'ere's 
a  gent  took  a  fancy  to  this  'ere  brass  pot  o' 
yours.  Says  'e  must  'ave  it.  Five  shillings  he'd 
got  to,  but  I  told  him  he'd  'ave  to  wait  till  you 
come  in." 

"  Quite  right,  my  lad !  "  said  Mr.  Dilger, 
cocking  a  watery  but  sharp  old  eye  at  Horace. 
"  Five  shillings !  Ah,  sir,  you  can't  know  much 
about  these  hold  brass  auntiquities  to  make  a 
orfer  like  that!" 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Horace,  "  but  I  know 
what  this  one  is  worth  to  me.  Still,  let  us  say 
six  shillings." 


336  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  Couldn't  be  done,  sir;  couldn't,  indeed. 
Why,  I  give  a  pound  for  it  myself  at  Christie's, 
as  sure  as  I'm  standin'  'ere  in  the  presence  o' 
my  Maker,  and  you  a  sinner !  "  he  declared  im- 
pressively, if  rather  ambiguously. 

"  Your  memory  misleads  you,"  said  Horace. 
"  You  bought  it  last  night  from  a  man  of  the 
name  of  Rapkin,  who  lets  lodgings  in  Vincent 
Square,  and  you  paid  exactly  half  a  crown  for 
it." 

"  If  you  say  so,  I  dessay  it's  correct,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Dilger,  without  exhibiting  the  least 
confusion.  "  And  if  I  did  buy  it  off  Mr.  Rap- 
kin,  he's  a  respectable  party  and  ain't  likely  to 
have  come  by  it  dishonestly." 

"  I  never  said  he  did.  "What  will  you  take 
for  the  thing? " 

"  "Well,  just  look  at  the  work  in  it.  They 
don't  turn  out  the  like  o'  that  nowadays. 
Dutch,  that  is — what  they  use  to  put  their  milk 
and  such  like  in." 

"  Damn  it !  "  said  Horace,  completely  losing 
his  temper.  "  I  know  what  it  was  used  for. 
Will  you  tell  me  what  you  want  for  it? " 

"  I  couldn't  let  a  curiosity  like  that  go  a 
penny  under  thirty  shilling,"  said  Mr.  Dilger 
affectionately.     "  It  would  be  robbin'  myself." 

"  I'll  give  you  a  sovereign  for  it — there," 


LETTING  HIM  GO  337 

said  Horace.  "  You  know  best  what  profit  that 
represents.     That's  my  last  word." 

"  My  last  word  to  that,  sir,  is  good  heven- 
in',"  said  the  worthy  man. 

"  Good  evening,  then,"  said  Horace,  and 
walked  out  of  the  shop;  rather  to  bring  Mr. 
Dilger  to  terms  than  because  he  really  meant 
to  abandon  the  bottle,  for  he  dared  not  go  back 
without  it,  and  he  had  nothing  about  him  just 
then  on  which  he  could  raise  the  extra  ten  shill- 
ings, supposing  the  dealer  refused  to  trust  him 
for  the  balance,  and  the  time  was  growing  dan- 
gerously short. 

Fortunately  the  well-worn  ruse  succeeded, 
for  Mr.  Dilger  ran  out  after  him  and  laid  an 
unwashed  claw  upon  his  coat  sleeve.  "  Don't 
go,  mister,"  he  said.  "  I  like  to  do  business  if  I 
can,  though,  'pon  my  word  and  honour,  a  sover- 
eign for  a  work  o'  art  like  that — well,  just  for 
luck,  and  bein'  my  birthday,  we'll  call  it  a  deal." 

Horace  handed  over  the  coin,  which  left  him 
with  a  few  pence.  "  There  ought  to  be  a  lid 
or  stopper  of  some  sort,"  he  said  suddenly. 
"  What  have  you  done  with  that? " 

"  No,  sir ;  there  you're  mistook — you  are,  in- 
deed. I  do  assure  you,  you  never  see  a  pot  of 
this  partickler  pattern  with  a  lid  to  it — never !  " 

"  Oh,  don't  you  though?  "  said  Horace.    "  I 


338  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

know  better.  Never  mind,"  he  said,  as  lie  recol- 
lected that  the  seal  was  in  Fakrash's  possession. 
"  I'll  take  it  as  it  is.  Don't  trouble  to  wrap  it 
up.    I'm  in  rather  a  hurry." 

It  was  almost  dark  when  he  got  back  to  his 
rooms,  where  he  found  the  Jinnee  shaking  with 
mingled  rage  and  apprehension. 

"  ~No  welcome  to  thee !  "  he  cried.  "  Dila- 
tory dog  that  thou  art!  Hadst  thou  delayed 
another  minute  I  would  have  called  down  some 
calamity  upon  thee." 

"  Well,  you  need  not  trouble  yourself  to  do 
that  now,"  returned  Ventimore.  "  Here's  your 
bottle,  and  you  can  creep  into  it  as  soon  as  you 
please." 

"  But  the  seal! "  shrieked  the  Jinnee. 
"  What  hast  thou  done  with  the  seal  which 
was  upon  the  bottle?  " 

"  Why,  you've  got  it  yourself,  of  course," 
said  Horace,  "  in  one  of  your  pockets." 

"  O  thou  of  base  antecedents !  "  howled  Fak- 
rash,  shaking  out  his  flowing  draperies.  "  How 
should  J  have  the  seal?  This  is  but  a  fresh  de- 
vice of  thine  to  undo  me." 

"  Don't  talk  rubbish !  "  retorted  Horace. 
"  You  made  the  professor  give  it  up  to  you 
yesterday.  You  must  have  lost  it  somewhere 
or  other.    Never  mind,  I'll  get  a  large  cork  or 


LETTING  HIM  GO  339 

bung,  which  will  do  just  as  well.  And  I've 
lots  of  sealing-wax." 

"  I  will  have  no  seal  but  the  seal  of  Suley- 
man!  "  declared  the  Jinnee.  "  For  with  no 
other  will  there  be  security.  Verily  I  believe 
that  that  accursed  sage  hath  contrived  by  some 
cunning  to  get  the  seal  once  more  into  his  hands. 
I  will  go  at  once  to  his  abode  and  compel  him  to 
restore  it." 

"  I  wouldn't,"  said  Horace,  feeling  extreme- 
ly uneasy,  for  it  was  evidently  a  much  simpler 
thing  to  let  a  Jinnee  out  of  a  bottle  than  to  get 
him  in  again.  "  He's  quite  incapable  of  taking 
it.  And  if  you  go  out  now  you'll  only  make  a 
fuss  and  attract  the  attention  of  the  press, 
which  I  thought  you  rather  wanted  to  avoid." 

"  I  shall  attire  myself  in  the  garments  of  a 
mortal — even  those  I  assumed  before,"  said 
Fakrash,  and  as  he  spoke  his  outer  robes  mod- 
ernized into  a  frock-coat.  "  Thus  shall  I  escape 
attention." 

"  Wait  one  moment,"  said  Horace.  "  What 
is  that  bulge  in  your  breast  pocket? " 

"  Of  a  truth,"  said  the  Jinnee,  looking  re- 
lieved, but  not  a  little  foolish  as  he  extracted 
the  object.     "  It  is  indeed  the  seal." 

"  You're  in  such  a  hurry  to  think  the  worst 
of  everybody,  you  see !  "  said  Horace.     "  Now 


340  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

do  try  to  carry  away  with  you  into  your  seclu- 
sion a  better  opinion  of  human  nature." 

"  Perdition  to  all  the  people  of  this  age !  " 
cried  Fakrash,  reassuming  his  green  robe  and 
turban,  "  for  I  now  put  no  faith  in  human 
beings  and  would  afflict  them  all  were  not  the 
Lord  Mayor — on  whom  be  peace! — mightier 
than  I.  Therefore,  while  it  is  yet  time,  take 
thou  the  stopper,  and  swear  that,  after  I  am  in 
this  bottle,  thou  wilt  seal  it  as  before  and  cast 
it  into  deep  waters,  where  no  eye  will  look  upon 
it  more." 

"  "With  all  the  pleasure  in  the  world !  "  said 
Horace.  "  Only  you  must  keep  your  part  of  the 
bargain  first.  You  will  kindly  obliterate  all 
recollection  of  yourself  and  the  brass  bottle 
from  the  minds  of  every  human  being  who  has 
had  anything  to  do  with  you  or  it."  » 

"  Not  so,"  objected  the  Jinnee,  "  for  thus 
wouldst  thou  forget  thy  compact." 

"  Oh,  very  well ;  leave  me  out,  then,"  said 
Horace.  "  Not  that  anything  could  make  me 
forget  you  !  " 

Fakrash  swept  his  right  hand  round  in  a 
half  circle.  "It  is  accomplished,"  he  said.  "All 
recollection  of  myself  and  yonder  bottle  is  now 
erased  from  the  memories  of  every  one  but  thy- 
self." 


LETTING  HIM  GO  341 

"But  how  about  my  client?  "  said  Horace. 
"  I  can't  afford  to  lose  him,  you  know." 

"  He  will  return  unto  thee,"  said  the  Jin- 
nee, trembling  with  impatience.  "  Now  per- 
form thy  share." 

Horace  had  triumphed.  It  had  been  a  long 
and  desperate  duel  with  this  singular  being,  who 
was  at  once  so  crafty  and  so  childlike,  so  credu- 
lous and  so  suspicious,  so  benevolent  and  so  ma- 
lignant. Again  and  again  he  had  despaired  of 
victory,  but  he  had  won  at  last.  In  another 
minute  or  so  this  formidable  Jinnee  would  be 
safely  bottled  once  more,  and  powerless  to  in- 
termeddle and  plague  him  for  the  future. 

And  yet,  in  the  very  moment  of  victory, 
quixotic  as  such  scruples  may  seem  to  some, 
Ventimore's  conscience  smote  him.  He  could 
not  help  a  certain  pity  for  the  old  creature  who 
was  shaking  there  convulsively,  prepared  to  re- 
enter his  bottle-prison  rather  than  incur  a 
wholly  imaginary  doom.  Fakrash  had  aged 
visibly  within  the  last  hour;  now  he  looked  even 
older  than  his  three  thousand  and  odd  years. 
True,  he  had  led  Horace  a  fearful  life  of  late; 
but  at  first,  at  least,  his  intentions  had  been 
good.  His  gratitude,  if  mistaken  in  its  form, 
was  the  sign  of  a  generous  disposition.  Not 
every  Jinnee  surely  would  have  endeavoured 


342  THE  BUASS  BOTTLE 

to  press  untold  millions  and  honours  and  dig- 
nities of  all  kinds  upon  him  in  return  for  a 
service  which  most  mortals  would  have  consid- 
ered amply  repaid  by  a  brace  of  birds  and  an 
invitation  to  an  evening  party. 

And  how  was  Horace  treating  him?  He 
was  taking  what,  in  his  heart,  he  felt  to  be  a 
rather  mean  advantage  of  the  Jinnee's  igno- 
rance of  modern  life  to  cajole  him  into  return- 
ing to  his  captivity.  Why  not  suffer  him  to 
live  out  the  brief  remainder  of  his  years  (for 
he  could  hardly  last  more  than  another  century 
or  two  at  most)  in  freedom?  Fakrash  had 
learned  his  lesson ;  he  was  not  likely  to  interfere 
again  in  human  affairs;  he  might  find  his  way 
back  to  the  Palace  of  the  Mountain  of  the 
Clouds  and  end  his  days  there,  in  peaceful  en- 
joyment of  the  society  of  such  of  the  Jinn  as 
might  still  survive  unbottled. 

So,  obeying — against  his  own  interests — 
some  kindlier  impulse,  Horace  made  an  effort 
to  deter  the  Jinnee,  who  was  already  hovering 
in  air  above  the  neck  of  the  bottle  in  a  swirl  of 
revolving  draperies,  like  a  blundering  old  bee 
vainly  endeavouring  to  hit  the  opening  into  his 
hive. 

"  Mr.  Fakrash !  "  he  cried.  "  Before  you  go 
any  further,  listen  to  me.    There's  no  real  neces- 


LETTING  HIM  GO  343 

sity,  after  all,  for  you  to  go  back  to  your  bottle. 
If  you'll  only  wait  a  little " 

But  the  Jinnee,  who  had  now  swelled  to 
gigantic  proportions,  and  whose  form  and  fea- 
tures were  only  dimly  recognisable  through  the 
wreaths  of  black  vapour  in  which  he  was  in- 
volved, answered  him  from  his  pillar  of  smoke 
in  a  terrible  voice :  "  Wouldst  thou  still  per- 
suade me  to  linger?"  he  cried.  "Hold  thy 
peace  and  be  ready  to  fulfil  thine  undertaking." 

"  But  look  here !  "  persisted  Horace.  "  I 
should  feel  such  a  brute  if  I  sealed  you  up  with- 
out telling  you " 

The  whirling  and  roaring  column,  in  shape 
like  an  inverted  cone,  was  being  fast  drawn 
down  into  the  vessel,  till  only  a  semi-material- 
ized but  highly  infuriated  head  was  left  above 
the  neck  of  the  bottle. 

"Must  I  tarry,"  it  cried,  "till  the  Lord 
Mayor  arrive  with  his  memlooks  and  the  hour 
of  safety  is  expired?  By  my  head,  if  thou  de- 
layest  another  instant,  I  will  put  no  more  faith 
in  thee !  And  I  will  come  forth  once  more,  and 
afflict  thee  and  thy  friends,  aye,  and  all  the 
dwellers  in  this  accursed  City,  with  the  most 
painful  and  unheard-of  calamities!  " 

And,  with  these  words,  the  head  sank  into 
the  bottle  with  a  loud  clap  resembling  thunder. 


344:  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

Horace  hesitated  no  longer;  the  Jinnee  him- 
self had  absolved  him  from  all  further  scruples. 
To  imperil  Sylvia  and  her  parents — not  to  men- 
tion all  London — out  of  consideration  for  one 
obstinate  and  obnoxious  old  demon  would  clear- 
ly be  carrying  sentiment  much  too  far. 

Accordingly  he  made  a  rush  for  the  jar  and 
slipped  the  metal  cover  over  the  mouth  of  the 
neck,  which  was  so  hot  that  it  blistered  his 
fingers,  and,  seizing  the  poker,  he  hammered 
down  the  secret  catch  until  the  lid  fitted  as 
closely  as  Suleyman  himself  could  have  re- 
quired. 

Then  he  stuffed  the  bottle  into  a  kit  bag, 
adding  a  few  coals  to  give  it  extra  weight,  and 
toiled  off  with  it  to  the  nearest  steam-boat  pier, 
where  he  spent  his  remaining  pence  in  purchas- 
ing a  ticket  to  the  Temple. 

Next  day  the  following  paragraph  appeared 
in  one  of  the  evening  papers,  which  probably 
had  more  space  than  usual  at  its  disposal: 

"  Singular  Occurrence  on  a  Penny  Steamer. 

"  A  gentleman  on  board  one  of  the  Thames 
steam-boats  (so  we  are  informed  by  an  eye-wit- 
ness) met  with  rather  a  ludicrous  mishap  yester- 
day evening.  It  appears  that  he  had  with  him 
a  small  portmanteau  or  large  handbag,  which  he 
was  supporting  on  the  rail  of  the  stern  bulwark. 


LETTING  HIM  GO  345 

Just  as  the  vessel  was  opposite  the  Savoy  Hotel, 
he  incautiously  raised  his  hand  to  the  brim  of 
his  hat,  thereby  releasing  hold  of  the  bag,  which 
overbalanced  itself  and  fell  into  the  deepest 
part  of  the  river,  where  it  instantly  sank.  The 
owner  (whose  carelessness  occasioned  consider- 
able amusement  to  passengers  in  his  immediate 
vicinity)  appeared  somewhat  disconcerted  by 
the  oversight,  and  was  not  unnaturally  reticent 
as  to  the  amount  of  his  loss,  though  he  was 
understood  to  state  that  the  bag  contained  noth- 
ing of  any  great  value.  However  this  may  be, 
he  has  probably  learned  a  lesson  which  will 
render  him  more  careful  in  future." 


THE  EPILOGUE 

One  evening  last  May  Horace  Ventimore 
dined  in  a  private  room  at  the  Savoy,  as  one  of 
the  guests  of  Mr.  Samuel  Wackerbath.  In 
fact,  he  might  almost  be  said  to  be  the  guest  of 
the  evening,  as  the  dinner  was  given  by  way 
of  celebrating  the  completion  of  the  host's  new 
country  house  at  Lipsfield,  of  which  Horace  was 
the  architect,  and  also  to  congratulate  him  on 
his  approaching  marriage  (which  was  fixed  to 
take  place  early  in  the  following  month)  with 
Miss  Sylvia  Futvoye. 

"  Quite  a  small  and  friendly  party!  "  said 
Mr.  Wackerbath,  looking  round  on  his  numer- 
ous sons  and  daughters,  as  he  greeted  Horace 
in  the  reception  room.  "  Only  ourselves,  you 
see,  and  a  young  lady  with  whom  you  are  fairly 
well  acquainted  and  her  people,  and  an  old 
schoolfellow  of  mine  and  his  wife,  who  are  not 
yet  arrived.  He's  a  man  of  considerable  emi- 
nence," he  added,  with  a  roll  of  reflected  im- 
portance in  his  voice,  "  quite  worth  your  culti- 
346 


THE  EPILOGUE  347 

rating.  Sir  Lawrence  Pountney,  his  name  is. 
I  don't  know  if  you  remember  him,  but  he  dis- 
charged the  onerous  duties  of  Lord  Mayor  of 
London  the  year  before  last,  and  acquitted  him- 
self very  creditably — in  fact,  he  got  a  baronetcy 
for  it." 

As  the  year  before  last  was  the  year  in 
which  Horace  had  paid  his  involuntary  visit  to 
the  Guildhall,  he  was  able  to  reply,  with  truth, 
that  he  did  remember  Sir  Lawrence. 

He  was  not  altogether  comfortable  when  the 
ex-Lord  Mayor  was  announced,  for  it  would 
have  been  more  than  awkward  if  Sir  Lawrence 
had  chanced  to  remember  him.  Fortunately 
he  gave  no  sign  that  he  did  so,  though  his  man- 
ner was  graciousness  itself.  "  Delighted,  my 
dear  Mr.  Ventimore,"  he  said,  pressing  Hor- 
ace's hand  almost  as  warmly  as  he  had  done 
that  October  day  on  the  dais.  "  Most  delighted 
to  make  your  acquaintance!  I  am  always  glad 
to  meet  a  rising  young  man,  and  I  hear  that  the 
house  you  have  designed  for  my  old  friend  here 
is  a  perfect  palace — a  marvel,  sir!  " 

"  I  knew  he  was  my  man,"  declared  Mr. 

"Wackerbath,  as  Horace  modestly  disclaimed  Sir 

Lawrence's    compliment.       "  You    remember, 

Pountney,  my  dear  fellow,  that  day  when  we 

were  crossing  Westminster  Bridge  together,  and 
23 


348  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

I  was  telling  you  I  thought  of  building?  '  Go 
to  one  of  the  leading  men — an  R.  A.  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing/  you  said ;  '  then  you'll  be  sure 
of  getting  your  money's  worth.'  But  I  said, 
1  No,  I  like  to  choose  for  myself;  to — ah — exer- 
cise my  own  judgment  in  these  matters.  And 
there's  a  young  fellow  I  have  in  my  eye  who'll 
beat  'em  all,  if  he's  given  the  chance.  I'm  off 
to  see  him  now.'  And  off  I  went  to  Great 
Cloister  Street  (for  he  hadn't  those  palatial 
offices  of  his  in  Victoria  Street  at  that  time) 
without  losing  another  instant,  and  dropped  in 
on  him  with  my  little  commission.  Didn't  I, 
Ventimore? " 

"  You  did,  indeed,"  said  Horace,  wondering 
how  far  these  reminiscences  would  go. 

"  And,"  continued  Mr.  Wackerbath,  patting 
Horace  on  the  shoulder,  "  from  that  day  to  this 
I've  never  had  a  moment's  reason  to  regret  it. 
We've  worked  in  perfect  sympathy.  His  ideas 
coincided  with  mine — I  think  he  found  that  I 
met  him,  so  to  speak,  on  all-fours." 

Ventimore  assented,  though  it  struck  him 
that  a  happier  expression  might  and  would  have 
been  employed  if  his  client  had  remembered 
one  particular  interview  in  which  he  had  not 
figured  to  advantage. 

They  went  in  to  dinner,  in  a  room  sumptu- 


THE  EPILOGUE  349 

ously  decorated  with  panels  of  gray-green  bro- 
cade and  softly  shaded  lamps  and  screens  of 
►gilded  leather;  through  the  centre  of  the  table 
rose  a  tall  palm,  its  boughs  hung  with  small 
electric  globes  like  magic  fruits. 

"  This  palm,"  said  the  professor,  who  was 
in  high  good  humour,  "  really  gives  quite  an 
Oriental  look  to  the  table.  Personally,  I  think 
we  might  reproduce  the  Arabian  style  of  decora- 
tion and  arrangement  generally  in  our  homes 
with  great  advantage.  I  often  wonder  it  never 
occurred  to  my  future  son-in-law  there  to  turn 
his  talents  in  that  direction  and  design  an  Ori- 
ental interior  for  himself.  Nothing  more  com- 
fortable and  luxurious — for  a  bachelor's  pur- 
poses." 

"  I'm  sure,"  said  his  wife,  "  Horace  man- 
aged to  make  himself  quite  comfortable  enough 
as  it  was.  He  has  the  most  delightful  rooms  in 
Vincent  Square!  "  Yentimore  heard  her  re- 
mark to  Sir  Lawrence.  "  I  shall  never  forget 
the  first  time  we  dined  there,  just  after  my 
daughter  and  he  were  engaged.  I  was  quite 
astonished;  everything  was  so  perfect — quite 
simple,  you  know,  but  so  ingeniously  arranged, 
and  his  landlady  such  an  excellent  cook,  too! 
Still,  of  course,  in  many  ways  it  will  be  nicer  for 
him  to  have  a  home  of  his  own," 


350  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

"  With  such  a  beautiful  and  charming  com- 
panion to  share  it  with,"  said  Sir  Lawrence, 
in  his  most  florid  manner,  "  the — ah — poorest 
home  would  prove  a  paradise  indeed!  And  I 
suppose  now,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he  added, 
raising  his  voice  to  address  Sylvia,  "  you  are 
busy  making  your  future  abode  as  exquisite  as 
taste  and  research  can  render  it,  ransacking  all 
the  furniture  shops  in  London  for  treasures, 
and  going  about  to  auctions  —  or  do  you  — 
ah  —  delegate  that  department  to  Mr.  Yenti- 
more  ?  " 

"  I  do  go  about  to  old  furniture  shops,  Sir 
Lawrence,"  she  said,  "  but  not  auctions.  I'm 
afraid  I  should  only  get  just  the  thing  I  didn't 
want  if  I  tried  to  bid.  .  .  .  And,"  she  added  in 
a  lower  voice,  turning  to  Horace,  "  I  don't 
believe  you  would  be  a  bit  more  successful, 
Horace." 

"  What  makes  you  say  that,  Sylvia? "  he 
asked,  with  a  start. 

"  Why,  do  you  mean  to  say  you've  forgotten 
how  you  went  to  that  auction  for  papa,  and 
came  away  without  having  managed  to  get  a 
single  thing?  What  a  short  memory  you  must 
have!  " 

There  was  only  tender  mockery  in  her 
eyes;  absolutely  no  recollection  of  the  sinister 


THE  EPILOGUE  351 

purchase  he  had  made  at  that  sale,  or  how 
nearly  it  had  separated  them  forever.  So  he 
hastened  to  admit  that  perhaps  he  had  not 
been  particularly  successful  at  the  auction  in 
question. 

Sir  Lawrence  next  addressed  him  across  the 
table.  "  I  was  just  telling  Mrs.  Futvoye,"  he 
said,  "  how  much  I  regretted  that  I  had  not  the 
privilege  of  your  acquaintance  during  my  year 
of  office.  A  Lord  Mayor,  as  you  doubtless  know, 
has  exceptional  facilities  for  exercising  hospi- 
tality, and  it  would  have  afforded  me  real  pleas- 
ure if  your  first  visit  to  the  Guildhall  could  have 
been  paid  under  my — hum — ha — auspices." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Horace,  very 
much  on  his  guard.  "  I  could  not  wish  to  pay  it 
under  better." 

"  I  flatter  myself,"  said  the  ex-Lord  Mayor, 
"  that  while  in  office  I  did  my  humble  best  to 
maintain  the  traditions  of  the  City,  and  I  was 
fortunate  enough  to  have  the  honour  of  receiv- 
ing more  than  the  average  number  of  celebrities 
as  guests.  But  I  had  one  great  disappointment, 
I  must  tell  you.  It  had  always  been  a  dream 
of  mine  that  it  might  fall  to  my  lot  to  present 
some  distinguished  fellow-countryman  with  the 
freedom  of  the  city.  By  some  curious  chance, 
when  the  opportunity  seemed  about  to  occur,  the 


352  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

thing  was  put  off,  and  I  missed  it — missed  it  by 
the  merest  hair-breadth." 

"  Ah,  well,  Sir  Lawrence,"  said  Ventimore, 
"  one  can't  have  everything !  " 

"  For  my  part,"  put  in  Lady  Pountney,  who 
had  only  caught  a  word  or  two  of  her  husband's 
remarks,  "  what  /  miss  most  is  having  the  senti- 
nels present  arms  whenever  I  went  out  for  a 
drive. .  They  did  it  so  nicely  and  respectfully. 
I  confess  I  enjoyed  that.  My  husband  never 
cared  much  for  it.  Indeed,  he  wouldn't  even 
use  the  state  coach  unless  he  was  absolutely 
obliged.  He  was  as  obstinate  as  a  mule 
about  it." 

"  I  see,  Lady  Pountney,"  the  professor  put 
in,  "  that  you  share  the  common  prejudice 
against  mules.  It's  quite  a  mistaken  one.  The 
mule  has  never  been  properly  appreciated  in 
this  country.  He  is  really  the  gentlest  and 
most  docile  of  creatures." 

"  I  can't  say  I  like  them  myself,"  said  Lady 
Pountney.  "  Such  a  mongrel  sort  of  animal — 
neither  one  thing  nor  the  other." 

"And  they're  hideous,  too,  Anthony,"  added 
his  wife.     "  And  not  at  all  clever." 

"  There  you're  mistaken,  my  dear,"  said  the 
professor.  "  They  are  capable  of  almost  human 
intelligence.    I  have  had  considerable  personal 


THE    EPILOGUE  353 

experience  of  what  a  mule  can  do,"  he  informed 
Lady  Pountney,  who  seemed  still  incredulous. 
"  More  than  most  people,  indeed,  and  I  can  as- 
sure you,  my  dear  lady,  that  they  readily  adapt 
themselves  to  almost  any  environment,  and  will 
endure  the  greatest  hardships  without  show- 
ing any  signs  of  distress — I  see  by  your  expres- 
sion, Yentimore,  that  you  don't  agree  with  me 
—eh?" 

Horace  had  to  set  his  teeth  hard  for  a 
moment  lest  he  should  disgrace  himself  by 
a  peal  of  untimely  mirth,  but  by  a  strong 
effort  of  will  he  managed  to  command  his 
muscles. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  said,  "  I've  only  chanced  to 
come  into  close  contact  with  one  mule  in  my 
life,  and,  frankly,  I've  no  desire  to  repeat  the 
experience." 

"  You  happened  to  come  upon  an  unfa- 
vourable specimen,  that's  all,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor. "  There  are  exceptions  to  every 
rule." 

"  This  animal,"  Horace  said,  "  was  certainly 
exceptional  enough  in  every  way." 

"  Do  tell  us  all  about  it !  "  pleaded  one  of 
the  Miss  Wackerbaths,  and  all  the  ladies  joined 
in  the  entreaty,  until  Horace  found  himself 
under   the   necessity   of   improvising   a   story, 


354:  THE  BRASS  BOTTLE 

which,  it  must  be  confessed,  fell  exceedingly- 
flat. 

This  last  peril  past,  he  grew  silent  and 
thoughtful,  as  he  sat  there  by  Sylvia's  side, 
looking  out  through  the  glazed  gallery  out- 
side on  the  spring  foliage  of  the  Embank- 
ment, the  opaline  river  and  the  shot  towers 
and  buildings  on  the  opposite  bank  glowing 
warm  brown  against  an  evening  sky  of  silvery 
blue. 

ISTot  for  the  first  time  did  it  seem  strange — 
incredible  almost  to  him — that  all  these  people 
should  be  so  utterly  without  any  recollection 
of  events  which  surely  might  have  been  ex- 
pected to  leave  some  trace  upon  the  least  re- 
tentive memory,  and  yet  it  only  proved  once 
more  how  thoroughly  and  honourably  the  old 
Jinnee,  now  slumbering  placidly  in  his  bottle 
deep  down  in  unfathomable  mud,  opposite  the 
very  spot  where  they  were  dining,  had  fulfilled 
his  last  undertaking. 

Fakrash,  the  brass  bottle,  and  all  his  fan- 
tastic and  embarrassing  performances  were  in- 
deed as  totally  forgotten  as  though  they  had 
never  been. 

And  it  is  but  too  probable  that  even  this 
modest  and  veracious  account  of  them  will  prove 
to  have  been  included  in  the  general  consign- 


THE  EPILOGUE  355 

ment  to  speedy  oblivion,  though  the  author  will 
trust  as  long  as  possible  that  Fakrash-el-Aamash 
may  have  neglected  to  provide  for  this  particu- 
lar case,  and  that  the  history  of  the  Brass  Bottle 
may  thus  be  permitted  to  linger  awhile  in  the 
memories  of  some  at  least  of  its  readers. 


THE    END 


DR.   BARTON'S  BOOKS. 


Pine  Knot. 

A  Story  of  Kentucky  Life.      By  William  E.  Barton.      Illus- 
trated by  F.  T.  Merrill.      1 2mo.      Cloth,  $  i .  50. 

The  story  is  full  of  the  atmosphere  of  the  quaint  mountain 
life  with  its  wealth  of  amusing  peculiarities,  and  it  also  has  a  his- 
torical value,  since  it  pictures  conditions  attendant  upon  the  anti- 
slavery  movement  and  the  days  of  the  war.  The  interest  of  a 
treasure  search  runs  through  the  tale,  the  author  having  adroidy 
utilized  a  mountain  legend  of  a  lost  mine.  "Pine  Knot"  is  a 
romance  "racy  of  the  soil  "  in  a  true  sense,  a  story  fresh,  strong, 
and  absorbing  in  its  interest  throughout. 

"Like  Mr.  Allen's  'Reign  of  Law,'  '  Pine  Knot'  is  a  thoroughly  whole- 
some story  written  by  a  man  of  earnestness  and  purpose.  It  is  a  novel  to  be 
read  and  enjoyed,  and  then  put  away  to  be  read  later." — Buffalo  Express. 

"The  humanity  of  the  book  will  touch  every  reader.  The  quaint  pecul- 
iarities of  the  community  are  introduced  with  picturesque  effect,  but  eccentrici- 
ties are  only  appropriate  entertaining  accompaniments  of  a  skillfully  portrayed 
development  of  character  and  social  life.  Few  modern  writers  possess  such  a 
power  of  describing  an  interesting  and  generally  unknown  people  so  apprecia- 
tively, graphically,  and  often  humorously. — The  book  has  a  vivid,  cumulative 
interest. ' ' — Congregationalism 

A  Hero  in  Homespun. 

A  Tale  of  the  Loyal  South.      By  William  E.  Barton,     i  zirx. 
Paper,  50  cents;   cloth,  #1.00. 

"Vigorous,  spirited,  truthful,  absorbing." — New  York  Critic. 

"  A  thoroughly  interesting,  red-blooded,  virile  story,  and  at  the  same  time 
a  historical  document  of  the  very  greatest  value." — The  Bookman. 

"Will  be  read  with  keen  enjoyment." — New  York  Times. 

"The  story  is  one  of  intense  interest." — Boston  Herald. 

"  Abounds  in  life  and  incident.  The  men  and  women  move  and  act 
spontaneously.  The  primitive  customs  and  usages  of  the  mountaineers  have 
been  carefully  pictured." — Philadelphia  Ledger. 

D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


"AN  EPIC  OF  THE  WEST." 
The  Girl  at  the  Halfway  House. 

A   Romance  of  the   Plains.     By  E.  Hough,   author  of  "The 
Story  of  the  Cowboy."      i2mo.      Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  author  of  "  The  Girl  at  the  Halfway  House,"  Mr.  E. 
Hough,  gained  general  recognition  by  his  remarkable  book,  ««  The 
Story  of  the  Cowboy,"  published  by  D.  Appleton  and  Com- 
pany in  this  country,  and  also  published  in  England. 

"The  Girl  at  the  Halfway  House"  has  been  called  an 
American  epic  by  critics  who  have  read  the  manuscript.  The 
author  illustrates  the  strange  life  of  the  great  westward  movement 
which  became  so  marked  in  this  country  after  the  civil  war.  A 
dramatic  picture  of  a  battlefield,  which  has  been  compared  to 
scenes  in  "The  Red  Badge  of  Courage,"  opens  the  story.  After 
this  "Day  of  War,"  in  which  the  hero  and  heroine  first  meet, 
there  comes  "The  Day  of  the  Buffalo."  The  reader  follows 
the  course  of  the  hero  and  his  friend,  a  picturesque  old  army 
veteran,  to  the  frontier,  then  found  on  the  Western  plains.  The 
author,  than  whom  no  one  can  speak  with  fuller  knowledge, 
pictures  the  cowboy  on  his  native  range,  the  wild  life  of  the  buf- 
falo hunters,  the  coming  of  the  white-topped  emigrant  wagons, 
and  the  strange  days  of  the  early  land  booms.  Into  this  new 
world  comes  the  heroine,  whose  family  finally  settles  near  at  hand, 
illustrating  the  curious  phases  of  the  formation  of  a  prairie  home. 
The  third  part  of  the  story,  called  "The  Day  of  the  Cattle," 
sketches  the  wild  days  when  the  range  cattle  covered  the  plains 
and  the  cowboys  owned  the  towns.  The  fourth  part  of  the  story 
is  called  "The  Day  of  the  Plow,"  and  in  this  we  find  that  the 
buffalo  has  passed  from  the  adopted  country  of  hero  and  heroine, 
and  the  era  of  towns  and  land  booms  has  begun. 

Nothing  has  been  written  on  the  opening  of  the  West  to 
excel  this  romance  in  epic  quality,  and  its  historic  interest,  as  well 
as  its  freshness,  vividness,  and  absorbing  interest,  should  appeal 
to  every  American  reader. 

D.     APPLETON      AND      COMPANY,      NEW     YORK. 


"A  FRESH  AND  CHARMING  NOVEL/' 

The  Last  Lady  of  Mulberry. 

A  Story  of  Italian  New  York.  By  Henry  Wil- 
ton Thomas.  Illustrated  by  Emil  Pollak.  i2mo. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  By  far  the  most  complete  and  satisfying  description  that 
has  been  given  of  life  in  the  Italian  quarter  of  New  York.  .  .  . 
Incidentally  a  very  good  novel,  reasonable  in  its  purpose  and 
character  drawing,  intricate  in  plot,  and  dramatic  in  its  action." 
— Philadelphia  Times. 

"A  breezy  book.  It  *  goes  '  from  start  to  finish,  and  the  fic- 
tion moves  in  a  rich  atmosphere,  albeit  that  of  the  poorest  of 
New  York's  alien  colonies.  .  .  .  The  best  study  of  Italian  life 
in  New  York,  and  of  its  special  environment  that  has  ever  been 
drawn." — Neza  Tork  Herald. 

"Through  a  very  cleverly  contrived  course  of  events  the 
complex  life  of  the  colony  shines  out  in  most  resplendent  pro- 
portions. .  .  .  The  story  is  an  exceedingly  clever  piece  oi  hu- 
morous writing." — Pittsburg  Chronicle-Telegraph. 

"  The  author  has  evidently  made  a  close  study  of  the  Italian 
quarter  and  its  people  and  customs,  and  has  utilized  his  knowl- 
edge to  best  advantage." — Denver  Republican. 

"Character  drawing  and  humor  of  an  excellent  quality. "-~. 
Rochester  Herald. 

"  Richly  humorous,  *  The  Last  Lady  of  Mulberry '  is  one 
of  the  most  enjoyable  little  romances  we  have  recently  read.  It 
presents  a  picture  of  the  Little  Italy  known  in  all  our  larger  cities 
in  a  way  that  is  more  effective  than  any  number  of  serious  dis- 
sertations." — Providence  News. 

D.     APPLETON     AND      COMPANY,     NEW     YORK. 


By  ELLEN  THORNEYCROFT  FOWLER, 

Cupid's   Garden.       umo.       With   new    portrait    of  the 
Author.      Cloth,  #1.50. 

This  volume  presents  the  author  of  "  Isabel  Carnaby  "  and  "The 
Farringdons"  in  a  new  light  as  the  mistress  of  the  art  of  story-telling 
according  to  the  French  rather  than  the  English  school.  A  situation, 
an  incident  full  of  significance  beneath  the  surface,  a  contrast,  become 
in  her  hands  a  theme  for  a  charming  little  tale  which  may  move  the 
reader  to  real  emotion,  or  to  delight  in  the  writer's  humor.  The  book 
as  a  whole  represents  the  author  in  a  lighter  vein  than  "  The  Farring- 
dons." It  will  appeal  to  all  Miss  Fowler's  host  of  readers,  and  increase 
their  admiration  of  her  versatility  and  fine  talent. 

The  Farringdons.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

M  A  most  readable  story  of  the  fortunes  of  several  interesting  people.  .  .  . 
A  plot  that  threads  its  way  through  the  story  reaches  a  conclusion  the  unex- 
pectedness of  which  adds  to  the  pleasure  that  the  reader  will  find  in  this 
romance." — Providence  News. 

"  Miss  Fowler  makes  her  own  audience,  which,  large  as  it  is  in  England, 
must  be  even  larger  in  this  country.  There  is  a  deeper  note  in  this  story 
than  any  she  has  yet  sounded.  .  .  .  '  The  Farringdons '  is,  above  all  else, 
a  proclamation  to  the  world  that  the  religion  which  Christ  brought  to  hu- 
manity is  a  living  power,  undiminished  in  strength,  the  mainspring  of  the 
actions  and  aspirations  of  millions  of  Anglo-Saxons." — New  York  Mail  and 
Express. 

"A  book  of  intense  interest." — Springfield  Union. 

Concerning   Isabel    Carnaby.     New  edition,  with 

Portrait  and  Biographical   Sketch  of  the  Author.      umo. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  No  one  who  reads  it  will  regret  it  or  forget  it."—  Chicago  Tribune. 

"For  brilliant  conversations,  epigrammatic  bits  of  philosophy,  keenness 
of  wit,  and  full  insight  into  human  nature,  '  Concerning  Isabel  Carnaby '  is 
a  remarkable  success." — Boston  Transcript. 

"  An  excellent  novel,  clever  and  witty  enough  to  be  very  amusing,  and 
serious  enough  to  provide  much  food  for  thought."— London  Daily  Tele- 
graph. 

A  Double  Thread.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  The  excellence  of  her  writing  makes  her  book  delightful  reading.  She 
is  genial  and  sympathetic  without  being  futile,  and  witty  without  b-ing 
cynical.'' — Literature,  London. 


D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


DAVID  HARUM  ILLUSTRATED. 

David  Harum. 

A  Story  of  American  Life.  By  Edward  Noyes 
Westcott.  Illustrated  edition,  entirely  reset. 
With  some  seventy  full-page  and  text  pictures  by 
B.  West  Clinedinst,  and  other  text  designs  by  C. 
B.  Farrand,  and  a  Biography  of  the  Author  by 
Forbes  Heermans.     i2mo.    Gilt  top,  uncut,  $2.00. 

In  response  to  the  many  inquiries  which  have  shown  a  general 
desire  for  an  illustrated  edition  of  "  David  Harum,"  the  Messrs. 
Appleton  have  fortunately  been  able  to  arrange  with  the  distin- 
guished artist,  Mr.  B.  West  Clinedinst,  N.  A.,  who  has  been 
peculiarly  interested  in  the  book,  and  has  accepted  the  commission 
with  an  enthusiasm  and  perfect  appreciation  which  have  produced 
the  happiest  and  most  sympathetic  results.  Mr.  Clinedinst' s  study 
of  the  character  and  his  rendering  of  types  show  a  comprehension 
of  Mr.  Westcott' s  creations  and  a  quick  sense  of  humor  which 
would  have  delighted  the  lamented  author. 

Also,  Edition  de  Luxe  of  the  above,  printed  in  tints, 
with  copperplate  photogravures,  large  paper,  uncut,  8vo,  $  10.00. 

The  "Christmas  Story"  from  David 
Harum. 

Crane  Edition.  Illustrated  with  pictures  of  Wil- 
liam H.  Crane  in  character,  and  stage  photographs. 
Cloth,  75  cents.     Pocket-book  Edition,  $1.00. 

No  other  episode  in  Mr.  Westcott' s  famous  book  presents  the 
tenderness  and  quaintness  and  full  quality  of  David  Harum' s 
character  with  the  richness  and  pathos  of  the  story  which  tells 
how  he  paid  the  "int'rist"  upon  the  "cap'tal"  invested  by 
Billy  P.  Fortunately,  this  story  lends  itself  readily  to  separate 
publication,  and  it  forms  an  American  "Christmas  Carol" 
which  stands  by  itself. 

D.     APPLETON      AND      COMPANY,      NEW     YORK. 


FELIX  GRAS'S  ROMANCES. 


The  White   Terror. 
A  Romance.      Translated   from   the    Provencal   by  Mrs. 
Catharine  A.  Janvier.     Uniform  with  "  The  Reds  of  the 
Midi "  and  "  The    Terror."     i6mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

•'  No  one  has  done  this  kind  of  work  with  finer  poetic  grasp  or  more 
convincing  truthfulness  than  Felix  Gras.  .  .  .  This  new  volume  has  the 
spontaneity,  the  vividness,  the  intensity  of  Interest  of  a  great  historical 
romance." — Philadelphia  Times. 

The  Terror. 

A  Romance  of    the   French   Revolution.     Uniform  with 

"The  Reds  of  the  Midi."     Translated  by  Mrs.  Catharine 

A.  Janvier.     i6mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  If  Felix  Gras  had  never  done  any  other  work  than  this  novel,  it  would 
at  once  give  him  a  place  in  the  front  rank  of  the  writers  of  to-day.  .  .  .  'The 
Terror '  is  a  story  that  deserves  to  be  widely  read,  for,  while  it  is  of  thrilling 
interest,  holding  the  reader's  attention  closely,  there  is  about  it  a  literary 
quality  that  makes  it  worthy  of  something  more  than  a  careless  perusal." — 
Brooklyn  Eagle. 

The  Reds  of  the   Midi. 

An  episode  of  the  French  Revolution.  Translated  from 
the  Provencal  by  Mrs.  Catharine  A.  Janvier.  With  an 
Introduction  by  Thomas  A.  Janvier.  With  Frontispiece. 
i6mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"I  have  read  with  great  and  sustained  interest  ' The  Reds  of  the 
South,'  which  you  were  good  enough  to  present  to  me.  Though  a  work  of 
fiction,  it  aims  at  painting  the  historical  features,  and  such  works  if  faith- 
fully executed  throw  more  light  than  many  so-called  histories  on  the  true 
roots  and  causes  of  the  Revolution,  which  are  so  widely  and  so  gravely  mis- 
understood. As  a  novel  it  seems  to  me  to  be  written  with  great  skill." — • 
William  E.  Gladstone. 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


